


Narratives of Deviance

by VennReverie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Westworld (TV)
Genre: AU, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adorable Connor, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Androids, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Connor in a cowboy outfit, Connor is ADAPTING, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit: Become Human Spoilers, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Did I mention Connor is in a cowboy outfit yeeehawww, F/M, Fluff, Hank in a cowboy outfit, Other, Protective Connor, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Westworld AU, Will update tags as story progresses, You the reader are dealing with a lot of moral conflicts right now, alternative universe, detroit: become human au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VennReverie/pseuds/VennReverie
Summary: As a programmer at Westworld, your life in the Behaviour and Diagnostics division has been very insular.That is, until an android turns up in the park, dead.Then an alcoholic cop from Detroit police and an Android sent by CyberLife turn up to investigate.Tasked with assisting the two on their investigation, ensuring they don’t step on anyone's toes, you realise there are conflicts and boundaries of your own you are willing to cross in order to help them...





	1. "Hello World!"

 

_“Welcome to Westworld._

_Live._

_Without limits.”_

The suave female voice echoed as stunning vistas stretched endlessly into view. A grandiose splendour of scenic desert, lined by mountains standing in the very far off distance, faded by the fog of heat that swathed itself across the sky in a warming haze along the horizon view.

A small town swam into view, rickety roofs dusted with an orange hue. Old saloon doors swung open, a tall man clad in leather, walking with the swagger of someone who owned the place stepped into the main street, his sheriff’s badge glinting in the morning sun. He tipped his hat at the madam standing nearby, who was leaning gracefully against a post, adorned in delicate frills with a petite face to match. She courteously smiled back before walking away, a second sultry glance thrown over her shoulder, hook line and sinker.

Golden fields of straw swayed in the late afternoon breeze, shimmering under the late sun. A small farmhouse panned into view, a mere dot against the sea of dancing grass. A young woman in a flowing white dress swam amongst the straw, her hand clutching that of a small child’s. Her daughter. She smiled serenely down at her, her eyes creased into pure joy. The daughter grinned back, innocence etched across her face as they wove their way through the field.

That’s Maeve, you thought. The name rose to your mind’s eye immediately as you watched the young woman dip out of view as the camera panned upwards to show more glorious scenery, a lens flare burst between mountains, blinding the camera.

A white screen with text appeared. _A WORLD WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES_ _WITHOUT JUDGEMENTS_

_WITHOUT LIMITS_

_**LIVE... WITHOUT LIMITS** _

The music which had been playing throughout, swelled into a dramatic crescendo, a booming chorus of dramatic strings and orchestrals, intended to captivate those that walked by the screens. To show them what they were going to experience.

A shot of a vista faded into view, with the Westworld logo cleanly stamped onto the middle, dominating most of the screen. The music began to fade.

An exasperated sigh escaped you.

You had never spent more than an hour in the park and that was to help shut down defective hosts.

You couldn’t imagine fully what it would be like to live in an environment completely fabricated for escapism. You felt it would be amazing to not be yourself even for a day, a chance to just switch off. More importantly, to see the hosts in their own intended environment, living their lives perfectly…

“Sorry about the wait there,” came a gruff voice from behind you.

You tore your eyes away from the screen, the woman’s smooth voice began to repeat itself again as the video looped back round to the beginning, a picturesque advert to enchant those that walked by.

 

Swivelling your head round you remembered you had both hands placed on one of the many reception desks in the area, the marble cool against your palms, stirring you back into reality. You were grounded back into the moment, your own life.

You were standing in the main reception area of the Westworld Mesa. Smooth white walls stretched high into the ceiling, cocooned around glass panels, and around the screens that continued to play the video you had been engrossed in as you waited. Everything about this place felt so daunting and vast. Endless halls of white space so large it felt like it exposed all to its visitors.

Yet it was a place that hid _so much_.

An older man in formal clothing with a security badge ambled over to the edge of the desk. He was clutching a few parcels, neatly wrapped to the point the paper was so flush it looked seamless. Various logos belonging to the company that sent them were printed neatly along the sides.

The security man sighed as he slid the parcels towards you across the glossy surface of the counter. There were quite a few. “Again I’m sorry management had to send your ass down here,” grunted the security guard, “Normally it’s the concierges manning these front desks, they keep everything organised and we just need to worry about standing guard.” he sighed again, “But we’re bloody short staffed at the moment. I blame Delos, I bet you they’re making cuts and not telling us!” he cursed some more as he slapped parcels onto the counter.

“We need more security, a bunch of our guys got called away for no reason! Nobody tells me anything!”

You tilted your head to sympathise with him, creasing your lips into an awkward half smile, letting him rant away as your mind drifted briefly back to the video you had just watched. Casually, you tried to ignore your tablet as it began to beep and hum on the counter next to you.

Just a few more minutes of respite. _Please._

Working at Westworld as a programmer for the Behavior Lab and Diagnostics division was no easy task. It was incredibly overwhelming.

The nights you spent trying to sleep and all you could see was lines of code swimming in and out of view underneath your eyelids. Your fingers sometimes would twitch in memory of the rapid amount of fixes you had to make for some of the incredible mess ups that had come your way.

Yet. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The job was satisfying, a distraction from the life you left behind on the mainland.

Being able to program the most subtle of behaviours in the host was an art form in itself. Underneath the lines and lines of code lay that small idle smile a madam of the Mariposa might give that guest, luring him into her chambers.

That wicked glare that a cowboy might give, causing the guest to feel queasy and realising the sudden danger they might not win in the stand off they found themselves in.

Those words they utter in their final moments, dying after being shot, could trigger the overwhelming feeling of resentment in a guest - setting them off on a journey of revenge.

The hosts are what made the world of Westworld feel alive… and it was your responsibility to give life to the hosts.

Elsie Hughes was a prodigy in the department, her skills and eloquence in being able to give realism to the hosts were an incredible feat. One that inspired you everyday.

Yet it was unparalleled to that of Bernard, the head of the Programming Division. He was a god amongst men in his observation to notice the smallest of things in human behaviour.

Elsie however, had seen that spark on you not long into when you first enrolled as a junior in the department through luck. She took you on and remained your mentor today, keeping you on track but also piling the pressure... and tasks, on you.

Elsie… whose name was flashing almost angrily across your tablet’s screen. It continued to buzz and bleep on the counter. Even the security guard’s eyes darted warily to it as he shuffled the packages into a pile slowly.

You took a deep breath and gently clasped the smooth glass tablet into your hands. Pressing the answer button you held it against your ear, preparing yourself. In the distance, the sound of the bullet train pulling into the lower floor station echoed throughout the white expanse. The arrival of new guests.

“Where the hell are you? Are you still down there?” came a voice, uttering your name irately, “Things are getting a bit chaotic up here, one of the bigger narratives are about to be reset so we need to finish QCing these hosts we still have in the lab and send them back out into the park!”

“And hello to you too, Elsie” you said coolly, a slight smile forming on your lips.

“Sorry it’s short staffed down here as well so I’m still retrieving those parcels.”

“Well please hurry. More guests should be arriving today so we need to have everything in order. Since that new update rolled out everything has been a shitshow!” There was a pause and a long exhale, “Look, sorry for snapping. You know what it’s like, Bernard is running around trying to meet Ford’s demands and we can’t keep up.”

“It’s ok Elsie I understand, really.” You replied calmly, closing your eyes and pressing a finger to your temple. Your patience with Elsie when she was stressed was a honed skill in itself.

“Hey, calm down. I’ll be up in twenty ok? Think I’ve got everything here.”

As you sighed, your unoccupied ear heard crowds of people's footsteps scattering around the entrance hall downstairs. They would soon be eagerly meeting their host who would greet them formally and lead them to their new adventure. “Can you double check? I know Ford had something specific he needed that got lost down there.” “Where did it arrive from?” You opened your eyes and began to scan the parcels as they wobbled a little. Tracing a finger lightly across the logo… _Delos… Bellini Paints…_

“Actually,” Elsie paused awkwardly. “It’s from-”

“Ah shit!” A gruff voice cut in loudly as parcels were knocked over, tumbling behind the desk and across the counter. The security guard dived down the back of the counter, disappearing from view. In a knee jerk reaction you managed to catch a few, but your tablet slid from your guest, skittering across the floor with a noisy clatter.

 

Leaning down you began to pick up the rest of the parcels. One of them in particular, caught your eye.

But before you could reach over, the muffled sound of heels and shoes clicking against marble began to grow clearer, reverberating down the hallway. You turned, swivelling on one foot to see a group of people pace around the corner, past you and down the corridor. In the moment of being caught out by falling parcels and Elsie shouting down the phone at you, your senses took in the presence of these guests almost in slow motion, as you studied them from afar.

You could tell immediately they were of an opulent background. Their clothes were straight angles of sleek black and white, suits and dresses that were cut from the finest fabrics - fitted in ways only money could define. They were young, and bore expressions that were a mix of excitement and determination.

To be honest, you would have felt that way too if you knew you were going into the park.

The new guests, and so early too.

You finished in your observation, glancing at your watch. 6am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a lie in.

One of them broke the regiment of glancing forward like the rest of the group and looked your way. Your eyes met theirs briefly, fixated by the minor detail of their eye colours being different to each other, before a feeling of self consciousness swept over you, breaking your gaze and turning back to swiftly grab your tablet.

Returning from the distraction, you held the tablet back up to your ear and recalled what you were about to do.

“Elsie?” You said. “Sorry I dropped my tablet.” “It’s fine, as I was saying…”

You saw the parcel you intended to grab. Your name was printed on the label on the front. But down the side…

You felt a pang surge through your chest.

Elsie was calling your name down the phone as you a cold rush dropped through your stomach.

“Hey, can you hear me? The parcel is from-”

“I think I know what one.” You cut in. “Why do we have something from there?”

“I don’t know. Bernard told me that Ford was expecting it though but needed it sent to someone else… for _discretion._ ” “But it’s from…” you held the parcel in your hand, a long box wrapped in the same neat paper as everything else. Your ran a thumb along the logo as if to check it was really printed there. 

_“Cyberlife.”_ You whispered.


	2. Reveries

The behavioural lab was a stark contrast to the ascension like aura the sleek white walls of the reception area emitted. Panes of glass divided up the large floor, slicing through the area cleanly, encapsulated by glossy black walls. 

Because of the transparent design, there was no room for privacy. The walls were windows into each little world of an employees day. There was a feeling of being observed from afar, especially on those late nights when you had too much coffee and the tiredness and paranoia was like a nervous tick, fueled by caffeine. 

Lamps hung neatly across the lab ceiling, which was paved with a prison-like light grid, projecting a single spotlight into the rooms. Each cubicle was a glass stage, an individual performance in each room.

These were the areas guests would never see. The dark recesses behind the scenes. You liked it. The muted, tonal interior seemed almost calming.

As you left the elevator you took a few of the parcels from the bag you were carrying and placed them on a spare trolley that had been abandoned at the beginning of the corridor that ran through the lab. The rest, were addressed to you - _and the one for Ford._

You felt yourself drawn to the logo again as your eyes scanned over its clean design.

In terms of android development, Westworld, and its subsequent parks had been around long before CyberLife was even a concept. Or so the rumours say. 

You knew enough about this company that their idea of an android versus what Ford had created 30 years ago, were completely different. 

Different constructs, different components, different… _programming._

Yet, you pondered, as you looked down at the dark granite you walked, _both are slaves to their own code, aren’t they?_

These empathetic thoughts slipped into the corners of your mind and you shook your head to quell them. 

Yes, you felt bad, when hosts were retired, they would be sent down to cold storage to remain preserved, their fleshy vessels would deteriorate otherwise. 

Yes, you felt bad when hosts were involved in violence so visceral they had to be remade.

But it needed to be done. That was their purpose. They were made to entertain in the park. 

Right? 

You paused outside the glass door into your cubicle. Through the windowed walls you could see two figures perched on stools, facing a host who was poised perfectly in her seat. 

She was naked, as was the standard for hosts when in analysis. Something about it felt so revealing but it was ok - they weren’t aware of where they were at all. This was something you had to reassure yourself when you first began in this department - now it was second nature.

Her gentle curly hair cascaded neatly around her perfectly made up face. Her eyes were large and sullen, as if in a trance. You identified her, it was Clementine. 

She was a prostitute at the Mariposa Saloon in Sweetwater, an introductory town in the park that was always frequented by guests.

You recognised both people sat on the stools, it was Bernard and Elsie. They seemed to be conversing quietly with each other in fascinated tones as you clicked open the lab door and walked in, placing the bag of remaining parcels onto the counter next to you.

“There you are,” Elsie called your name in greeting.

She glanced briefly over her shoulder to acknowledge you, her eyes looked tired, dark hair scraped back into a ponytail. You wish you had thought to grab her a coffee on the way back upstairs. 

“What’s needing done?” You asked, immediately drawing out your tablet from your back pocket and standing by the two of them. Unfolding the glass panels it flipped out in three parts - a triptych of technology and code that became seamless at the folds. 

“We’re just finishing up here, but take note of this.” Elsie said, swivelling slightly in the stool and leaning towards where Bernard was looking. You stood patiently, taking notes on your tablet whilst your colleagues continued to muse.

Part in parcel of being Elsie’s mentee was to write reports at the end of the day summarising odd behaviours or changes in the hosts the two of you had put through analysis. In a way it was to help the development team trace changes in case of future bug fixes. 

“Did you see it” Bernard breathed, his kind eyes squinting as he leaned in further towards Clementines face.

“No?” “Give it a second, she’ll do it again.” Bernard smiled.

Clementine had her hand delicately poised, clutching her face in a seductive manner, as if in contemplation of her next customer. What Bernard had indicated was a small minor movement, a subtle stroke of her lips with little finger, gently grazing the delicate flesh. It made her look alluring, in deep thought. 

“Her finger,” Elsie turned to Bernard surprised, “That’s not standard.” 

“I noticed it last night. Went looking in the update. It’s a whole new class of gestures.”

Elsie looked up at you then back down at her tablet, tapping through some data. 

“But if we didn’t put it there, then who did?” She questioned. 

Bernard smiled again, you could sense he knew that the answer was obvious. 

“Ford. He still reviews every update before we issue them. He must have slipped it in there without telling anyone. He calls them ‘Reveries’.” Bernard studied Elsie’s reaction carefully,“The old gestures were just generic movements. These are tied to specific memories.” 

“How?”

“The memories are purged at the end of every narrative loop. But they are still in there, waiting to be overwritten. He found a way to to access them, like a subconscious.” 

Your eyes widened with excitement, eyebrows pulled taut in fascination as your fingers danced across the tablet, taking notes. 

What made this change intriguing though to you was the idea that maybe… maybe there was progression on how far the team could push the hosts... 

Elsie’s voice cut through your thoughts. 

“A hooker with hidden depths? Every man’s dream.”

“It’s the tiny things that make them seem real, that make the guests fall in love with them.” 

You smirked slightly at yourself as you finished your notes. Though Bernard meant it in an immersive way, you recalled times you heard stories from the park of guests who became obsessed with hosts, their attachment with reality severed. Those that chose to remain in the park for long periods of time truly had the deepest pockets. 

There was a sudden yelling and cursing, muffled by glass from another cubicle.

Looking up to your right you could see two cowboy hosts wrestling each other violently in a brawl, their faces bloody. They were naked too, their skins bruised with blossoming splotches of purple as they threw punches.

An employee clad in dark uniformed clothing watched stoically. They held their tablet in their hands and nodded before tapping the screen and the scene before them froze suddenly. 

You looked away.

You had inner conflict over the morality of this sometimes.

In the three years you had began to work here, you had learned to try and become hard skinned at the day to day escapades the hosts were put through.

You had to. But there were days where you’d question this. Even if it were brief thoughts that bobbed in at random times throughout your working life. 

Yes you felt bad. 

But you were human after all. It was only natural.

This rumination of whether the hosts suffered, occasionally kept you awake at night. Sometimes, overhearing the way some of the employees spoke about the hosts in the breakroom made you curl up your fists so hard you could feel your nails digging into your skin.

\---

A shrill bleeping wrangled you back to reality. Bernard stood up, pacing over to where his tablet had been sitting open on a trolley. Composing himself from being hunched over in a stool he cleared his throat, apologising as he had something to attend to.

He strolled to the door, pulling it open and paused. As you finished folding up your tablet and slipping it in your pocket, you looked up to see Bernard was looking directly at you. You jumped slightly.

This was the first time he had acknowledged your presence the whole time you were there. It surprised you because being a junior meant you were used to the executive staff members not regarding you much, Bernard being one of them. He looked surprised as you jolted, then gave a slight smile as your face flushed slightly at being caught out so easily.

“I apologise for giving you a fright there, Miss-” and he gently said your last name “I was reminded by Ford that there was a parcel addressed to you that is actually intended for him.”

Your mouth parted, ready to reply but were too slow.

“Oh yeah, I already told her about that.” Elsie interrupted, swivelling around in the stool “She’ll take it up to him now.” 

“Excellent, he’ll be expecting it.” Bernard finished, nodding curtly and leaving the cubicle. 

Elsie watched you for a moment and then laughed. 

“Come on, _relax_. Ford doesn’t bite.” She turned back to face Clementine,

“Course I know that,” you retorted, a little annoyed but mostly embarrassed, “Just this’ll be the first time I’ve had to go solo.”

“Jeez, you’ll be fine. I’ll finish up here while you go and see Ford. Go, go.” 

She waved her tablet at you dismissively. 

You grabbed the CyberLife parcel from the counter and opened the door to leave.

Taking one last glance at Elsie you noticed she was carefully looking at Clementine with great interest, particularly her lips. Clementine remained posed, her finger still pressed daintily against the swollen cleft of her mouth. 

You turned and left.

The Cyberlife parcel stayed close by your side, the logoside pressed against your hip so as to not draw attention. 

You admired Elsie. Her gutsiness and outgoing approach inspired you. She was the breath of optimism needed to survive the intense corporational environment that was the Westworld Mesa Hub. 

You wondered if CyberLife’s labs were the same.


	3. Defragmentation

“Next stop, executive offices” a female voice announced, smooth, bassy. 

Leaning back against the wall of the elevator, you unfocused your vision and stared blankly ahead of you as it jolted into life and began to ascend.

You fumbled the parcel nervously. Rolling it in your hands, the CyberLife logo swivelled in and out of view at the bottom of your eyesight with every turn. 

The feeling of paper against your fingers felt like a welcome change to the cold glassy surface of the tablet you so often typed on. The sensation of something organic against your fingertips was almost comforting, it grounded you as your thoughts scrolled rapidly, like lines of code. The only other times like this you could feel comforted is when you gently handled hosts, shuffling them into their seats when they were offline. It seemed often their presence was more welcoming to you.

For something that had been manufactured, layers of materials intricately woven into a human like body, sinew strung together, moulded into artificial flesh, you believed that they sometimes acted more human than some of the staff in the Mesa. 

The sound of your fingers against the grain of paper, and the industrial hum of the elevator tumbled you into a deeper trance like state. Idle thoughts swayed in and out of your mind as you logically sifted through them to try and rationalise, picking out thoughts like keywords and disregarding the rest so as to not become panicked or disillusioned. 

You were going to Ford’s office. And this made you nervous. 

Robert Ford was a man beyond anyone's time. As Park Director he was often found hiding in his office working quietly away, or disappearing for periods at a time to hide from constant pestering from other departments or Delos board representatives. 

You had never met him one on one before, though he would occasionally wander into the labs if needed by Bernard for hosts that required his careful prognosis. 

Having only been present in the room a handful of times, like Bernard, he barely acknowledged you there but instead focused on others. Yet his presence in the labs were felt no matter how large the floor was. 

He was a man of deep composure, the way he spoke was honeyed words of wisdom and prose that would dance in the corners of your mind for days after. He provided food for thought, but only to those he knew would be wise enough to heed his words. 

However, these astute observations of Ford still didn’t soothe the ball of nerves that frantically tangled itself around the pit of your stomach. You could spend hours trying to decipher this enigma of a person, this still wouldn’t quell the feeling you were meeting one of the greatest minds. Alone. 

Even if it was to hand over a parcel that was none of your business. Barring the fact it had your name printed on the label. _For discretion_ , Elsie had said. 

The lift came to a gentle halt, the small gravitational shift as it stopped jolted the ball of wiry nerves a little and you shifted your focus back into the present. 

You’d go in, give him the parcel then politely duck out. This decisive conclusion kept you balanced. You programmed these series of actions in your mind, ready to execute. 

The doors opened, a gateway into the great realm of the gods themselves.

A much smaller room greeted you. Walls of black cascaded around you, though unlike downstairs, these walls were adorned with many things. It felt like the inside of a museum, housed in modern architecture. Old furniture was the tasteful choice of Ford. 

Shelves stood by themselves, lined like columns within the office. Relics of endeavours Ford must have pursued over the years, gifts, his own works... sat neatly upon them.

A gentle melody of piano music softly hung in the air like a beautiful scent. It rolled around the dimly lit room, swelling your heart and calming your nerves as if in a hypnotic daze. It felt, _sounded_ familiar, yet not at the same time.

A soft, older mans voice came out from somewhere. 

“Ah, Miss-” he said your last name, “Please do come in. Welcome to my humble abode.” 

You stepped forward, passing through the middle of shelves, through more doors and into the main area of the room. 

A great oak desk sat, a man of aged brilliance carefully hunched over a sketchbook, pencil in hand.

He looked up at you and made eye contact. Small, sagacious eyes hidden under wrinkles and years of wisdom gazed gently back at you. It was hard to tell if he was judging you or being kind. His lips parted and he leaned back, placing the pencil neatly down next to his book. He gestured to his right with a hand, waving it slightly. You followed where he had waved to and noticed a host sitting at an old saloon piano, who promptly stopped moving.

The piano music died. 

You felt your hands grip the parcel tighter, nervous at the silence.

“Tell me,” Ford broke the air between them tilting his head. “What are your opinions on Hosts and their memories?”

You felt your head go rigid slightly, taken aback by the question. This wasn’t what you expected the first topic would be to discuss, you really only assumed you’d drop the item off and leave.

Swallowing, you glanced down at the parcel in your hand as if to indicate this was why you were here. Pursing your lips in thought, you looked back up at him.

“We erase them every time they have been killed or reach the end of their narrative.” You said, your voice firm in tone.

There was a moment where you drowned in the silence once again, Ford looked a little crestfallen at your curt reply, leaning back in his chair and resting against the arms. 

“But-” you spoke up, your voice a little broken from nerves,thoughts choked as they tumbled from your lips feverishly, “I once read that human beings need sleep so their minds don’t become oversaturated, bloated with unnecessary thoughts and memories.”

Ford looked up again, eyebrows slowly raised in interest. 

“Go on,” he encouraged. 

“Yeah, in the night our brains work through memories, thoughts and processes that are momentary, ones they deem not important and purge them. Much like…”

You paused again, then finished, “Much like an organic process of defragmentation.” 

Ford had leaned forward in his chair again, hands clasped beneath his chin to prop his head up as he looked at you with kind eyes. 

“Yes, exactly, Miss-” he said your last name again, “Like defragmentation.” 

“That’s why the hosts dream, because they can’t always forget everything like we do.” Ford continued, “Their previous memories become just dreams so they don’t remember their past life.” 

You looked thoughtfully upwards as you spoke, “Sometimes I wish humans were as lucky.” 

“And yet” Ford said “I would say that hosts can still remember things even in their waking life. Their actions fueled by their previous experiences.” 

Your mind jumped to what you witnessed downstairs with Clementine. 

“Reveries,” you said under your breath. 

“Ah yes, I see you were with Bernard earlier,” Ford mused having heard you and standing up from his chair he began to slowly pace slowly around, hands behind back. 

He weaved among displays, his voice echoing throughout the office. 

“I think you need to remember, we are truly the lucky ones. Our memories fade over time. For unfortunately the reason hosts have dreams... is as you said. Because their processes remember events as if it just happened in that moment.”

You turned as he paced behind you, still circling the office. It made you nervous as if he was assessing you from afar.

“A dangerous feat that could drive anyone mad. But hosts are programmed to process this. Our minds are too fragile to often comprehend our most painful memories as if they just happened, over and over.” 

You were lost in his words, as if in a trance. 

He appeared suddenly next to you and you jumped slightly. 

“Ah yes, the parcel. I apologise for having it sent in your name. I did stress to my contact I wanted it to be discretionary so I used your name.” 

You handed it to him and he clasped it lightly, walking back to his desk as you watched. He began to neatly unwrap the parcel and you strained your neck trying to see what was in the box, insanely curious at what would require such secrecy. 

“Aha” Ford murmured, slipping the lid open to the box. He lifted up a small device, which you could not make out, obscured by the large globe like decoration in front of his desk. There was a moment of silence once again as Ford slipped the item back into the box and placed it into a drawer. He looked up once again and smiled at you slightly, “Something I shall investigate later.” 

“If that is everything, I’ll be taking my leave,” you said politely, turning on your heel to leave. 

“One more thing,” Ford said.

You paused to look back at him.

“The reason I asked you about memories is because pain drives us. But the pain the hosts experience, it isn’t real.”

He tilted his head towards you, a watchful eye resting upon your face.

“They aren’t human.” 

You swallowed.

“I implore you to take heed of my advice. I find it compulsory to stress this to all of my staff so they don’t let their minds become caught up in fragile moral conflict.” 

You felt an icy sting travel through your insides, as if caught out. It felt like guilt.

It was like he could read your mind and c0uld read the conflict you had etched across your face the last few weeks… no, months.

“You have to remember this, they are hosts. They may have perceived memories and empathy but in the end they are programmed to do exactly what they are intended to do. You mustn’t become too involved.” 

“I… “ you stumbled “I will remember that, thank you.” 

“To quote Shakespeare-” Ford’s voice echoed a little more louder “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” 

_They have their exits and their entrances,_

_And one man in his time plays many parts._

The words tumbled through your mind, hazed by your encounter with this man.

_Did he really not care about the hosts?_

Ford sat back down at his desk, picked up the pencil and ran it along his mouth as he opened the sketchbook and began to start writing notes in it again. 

You finally turned and began to leave. You approached the lift doors which opened, two figures stepped out abruptly, deep in bickering with each other. You only caught the words “ _Updates”_ and “ _Recall”_ before they stopped after acknowledging your presence. 

One was Stubbs, his last name used on friendly terms as you often drank with him and Elsie on the rare chance you all finished a shift at a slightly reasonable time. As Head of Security he conducted a presence that he was always wary of the hosts incase they ever truly did harm a guest. 

The other was someone you vaguely recognised, her eyes seemed aged with stress and she had a face that was fierce with anger. 

Stubbs nodded at you with a knowing smile as you stepped out the way. 

“Hello Theresa, what brings you to my lair at this time of day?” Ford said, his voice laced with polite surprise. “We need to recall the hosts that were updated.” Theresa immediately interejected, walking straight up to Fords desk, “These ‘reveries’ you are so _fond_ of are at greater risk of causing bugs in the hosts with every update. We are on the path to a critical failure.”

“We haven’t had a critical failure in 30 years.” Ford said calmly. 

“That means we are long overdue for one.” Theresa sighed, massaging her temple.

What happened thirty years ago? The question formed in your mind and you tacked it to the side to think of later. You realised you were frozen in the spot, the lift doors were open and you hadn’t walked in.

The display in front of you had teased your curiosity and no one had noticed you hadn’t left yet. 

“Theresa I can assure you that everything will be in order.” Ford said calmly. “That is bullshit and you know it, the hosts you’ve updated and rolled out are beginning to deviate slightly and improvise more! You’ve seen what happened to Walter and the Sheriff? Those aren’t isolated incidents at all. This is your update causing this.” 

You watched as she leaned in and whispered feverishly, trying to control her tone, you only barely caught what she said with alert ears.

“Have you seen what is happening with CyberLife’s androids? They’re breaking from their programming… they’re calling them _Deviants.”_

You felt your heart stop.

You leaned slightly to get a better view, to only just notice Stubbs watching you from afar, a playfully bemused expression on his face. He walked over to the glass office doors that still stood open and pushed them shut, his gaze still focused on you.

You caught his eye and smiled cheekily and shrugged. He raised his eyebrows in expectation at you. 

Like a puppy that had been caught doing something they shouldn’t, you shamefully stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button to take you back to the labs. 

Folding your arms you tilted your head down and closed your eyes to ruminate again. 

Your encounter with Ford had left an impact on you, scrambling the puzzle pieces you had put together to decipher him and leaving you back at square one when it came to profiling him. 

Though the way he spoke was with such clarity, such precision with words chosen carefully… 

He would always remain a mystery to you.

\---

The rest of the day felt uneventful compared to the early morning you had. Hosts were brought in and then immediately out fairly fast due to the fact their fixes were menial things. 

It wasn’t until the later evening, when your eyes began to ache and dry up from looking at screens all day, that things began to escalate again. 

Bernard had been called into you and Elsie’s lab room, Elsie had noticed that the host that was brought in, Peter Abernathy had been glitching more than usual and was unresponsive. After much deliberation Ford eventually arrived to assist Bernard. 

“Bring yourself back online” Ford said lightly, sitting on a stool in front of the host. 

The frozen facade of the host melted away as he came to life again. From a stoic expression, Peter slowly drifted into a distressed, quivering state. His face went from plain to that of agony and bewilderment. He shook violently, and you felt your stomach pang slightly with empathy at the distress you were witnessing.

Elsie caught your stare and nodded at you, indicating you should take notes. Folding the tablet out and trying to distract yourself from the scene before you, you focused only on the situation and not the emotional turmoil Peter clearly was in. 

“I… I … I have to warn her.” He stuttered.

“Warn who?” Ford asked. 

“DOLORES!” He snapped, tears slowly snaking their way down his creased face “The things you do to her… the things you do to her… I have to protect her… I have to help her… I … I she’s got to get help.” 

You had been noting down his dialogue into your tablet, categorising it under abnormal speech patterns. Your eyes hovered over the name Dolores.

You had worked on her a few times too, mostly when other staff was unavailable as she was an older model, so she required a little more time to fix sometimes. 

Yet she was one of your favourite hosts to work on because her personality reminded you of the warmth and comfort of someone who actually _cared_ about you. 

You remembered Stubbs proudly saying to you in your first week at the Mesa how she was the oldest host in the park. You remembered that her appearance was deceiving on that front, you’d never guess that a host that had the demeanor of someone who was young, beautiful and serene would be that of someone who has witnessed years of guest behaviours. 

You were glad the hosts’ memories could be wiped. 

“That’s enough.” Ford said simply and Peter froze.

Ford hunched forward more carefully, watching Peter with an expression of curiosity. 

“This... behaviour… miles beyond a glitch here.” Bernard commented, leaning closer towards Ford to observe. 

Ford ignored him and continued to interrogate.

“Access your current build.” 

Again the host juddered into life, his eyes watering as he looked around, confused.

The next few minutes Ford tried to gently interrogate Peter. Everytime he questioned the broken host, he’d simply respond with nonsense words until the conversation turned. You watched with deep fascination, wondering what could possibly have damaged a host in it’s core programming so badly to result in such a meltdown. 

Over time, as more questions were asked Peter’s words slowly tumbled down into strings of dark sentences. 

“When we are born…. We...we…” words fumbled from his mouth, dry and shaking, “We cry that we are come… to… to.. This great stage of fools.” His mouth staggered the words, his face creased into a sinister look.

It was unnerving. Watching someone to go from being so kindly to flip into such a dark and terrifying model. You shuffled uncomfortably. 

“I shall have such revenge on you…” his head moved from staring intensely at Ford to Bernard “...both.” 

The next part happened all so suddenly you weren’t prepared for it at all. 

Peter lunged forward, resting his hands upon Ford’s arms, eyes peering gormlessly into his.

“You don’t know where you are do you? You’re in a _prison of your own sins.”_ He rasped quickly. 

As this all happened, it had caught you by so much surprise a small “ _Ah!_ ” escaped your lips. 

In that moment you had forgotten you were standing a few feet from the host. 

Peter swung his head around to look at you. 

In an instant he spun round, grabbing you by the wrist. You gasped, dropping your tablet and it clattered across the floor, skidding to a halt at the feet of several QA security members who had urgently filed into the room. 

His grip was firm. A vice of desperation. 

You looked down as your surprised stare met his. 

His face had deteriorated back into a look of pleading. The walls of darkness had dissipated, his personality switched instantly. He shook, tears trickling down his face once again. 

“P...p… _please._ ” he quavered “You have to help _Dolores_.” 

“What? I’m sorry I-” you gasped.

“PLEASE.” 

He tugged your arm harshly, you saw out of the corner of your eye the guards closing in. He yanked on your arm again until your head was level with his and he leaned in to your ear. 

“She needs to know she can be _free._ ” 

He fell away from you as the guards pulled him back puppet like in his chair. 

“Turn it off.” Theresa said, bursting into the room, her voice a statement of fury. 

Bernard frantically tapped at the tablet and Peter froze in place for the last time.

“It...” Theresa breathed, nostrils flaring, “Will be decommissioned. _Now._ ” 

“This is simply a matter of reveries causing the hosts to revert back to an older build.” Ford said plainly, a voice of reasoning among the scuffle that had occurred in the lab.

“Aberrant host behaviour. Or aberrancy, if you want to give it a more, workplace term.” 

“I don’t fucking care. This one goes to cold storage. The rest, that have this… _update_ we will recall. _Now._ ” 

\---

As Peter was being readied to be escorted away, you overheard Elsie muttering about Stubbs and livestock retrieving the updated hosts almost instantly after Theresa’s command.

She seemed a little forlorn that this was the case. You were certain her and Bernard had been excited by the new update. 

You picked up your tablet, wiping the screen with the sleeve of your jumper and as you folded it up, noticed your hand was shaking where Peter had grabbed you. 

Your gut swirled in a confused symphony of empathy. You felt bad for him but his hopeless pleading about Dolores had distressed you. It became a memory you pinned into the side of your brain to try and ignore. The authenticity of his interaction had really shaken you. 

A hand gently placed itself on your arm and you flinched slightly at the contact. You realised it was Elsie and relaxed.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” She said, her face a look of concern, “Just another shitty day with hosts huh. Let’s maybe try and grab Stubbs later and go hit up the bar yeah?”

You smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“Yeah sure, it’s not like anything else can go to shit now right?” You said jokingly. Elsie grinned at your comment.

 _Right?_ You thought. 

And then it did.

Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was cynicism, but you pretty much could predict that the dull thudding of frantic footsteps along the corridor outside meant trouble. 

You just _knew._

A man from livestock, clad in white overalls with a red apron and gloves slid into view, skidded to a halt and grasped madly at the door to the lab. 

Everyone paused as he stumbled into the room, gasping and wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“I’m… sorry for… interruption…” gasped the lab worker, “I… “ 

“Take a deep breath boy and compose yourself.” Ford said sternly, “What seems to be the matter?” 

“We’ve brought in a host that was part of the quarantined lot but-” he straightened up, still panting heavily. 

You noticed his overalls. 

Instead of the bloomed, muddied patches of blood that would be splattered across livestock uniforms from their work being a deep red, it was stained an unusual shade of blue. 

“You need to immediately come to livestock sir.” breathed the worker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the wonderfully hype comments! It is very encouraging to read them and I am happy you are enjoying the story so far!
> 
> Also I have a tumblr incase anyone is interested in looking at mostly reblogs of Westworld/Detroit stuff - as well as posting about when the fic updates! 
> 
> https://vennreverie.tumblr.com/


	4. Cross Contamination

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you rushed with everyone down to livestock. 

Even Ford had decided to relent to the urgency of the livestock employee’s desperation and wander down with Bernard, Elsie, Theresa and you. 

The department was similar in design to behavioural, large dark walls, layers of glass and tubular lighting that lit the smooth concrete paths.

The only difference was it was not for the faint hearted. 

Piles of hosts bodies were strewn in rooms, being washed down by staff. They had been killed in some manner, and were being decomanimated before being fixed up and set back into the park. Blood spattered across glass, splaying down over the floor and trickling into drains as rooms were soaked in water by hoses. 

They’re just hosts, you repeated the line in your head over and over, trying not to look at the bodies. It was barbaric, but Ford’s words rang true in your mind. 

You were all lead into a room at the back, a large stretcher lay with a blue tarpaulin draped over what you assumed was the dead body of the host. Another livestock employee stood, stroking his beard and looking terrified. He glanced over at his colleague as you all entered the room, his face switched to that of anger when he noticed Ford. 

Side stepping towards the employee that led, you could barely make out the words as he hissed. 

“Felix, why the actual _fuck_ did you bring _fucking Ford_ down here?!” 

Felix seemed to flinch slightly. Everyone gathered around the table. 

“I uh…” Felix seemed to stammer, “I thought it required his attention.” 

Ford looked up at Felix and his colleague, smiling slightly and making it aware he could hear the exchange. 

“Thank you for letting me know… Felix?” Ford said and Felix jumped slightly and looked surprised. 

“Yes, Felix Lutz” he said. 

“Now Felix.” Ford said calmly, “Show me what the issue is.” 

You couldn’t tell if Ford was being patient out of his own personality or if he was _pretending_ to, his tone hiding the bemusement at deciding to pursue something that might not even be a serious matter. 

“The.. the host that we received.” Felix said, placing his hands at the edge of the tarpaulin, “Recovery said they found it in a field but when they scanned it, nothing came up in the systems.” 

“Odd” Ford said. “Show me then.” 

Felix lifted the sheet and slowly peeled it down so that the upper torso and head was showing. 

The blood, or what you presumed was the blood. Was not red. It was the same slightly translucent blue that Felix’s overalls were splotched in, staining its body and all over its clothes, coating the deep wound around its neck. 

“That blood,” Bernard cut through the silence and gasps, “That isn’t right.”

“Thirium.” Ford said simply. 

Ford stepped towards the end of the table, observing the host’s head. He gently tapped something on its temple. 

“This isn’t one of ours. This is not a host.” 

You noticed he was pointing at a small translucent ring on the temple. It was white. 

“This is an android.” Ford said plainly. “It belongs to CyberLife.” 

 

\---

You kind of wished you hadn’t gone down now with the group to see what livestock had brought in. 

The shouting that ensued from Theresa was very disruptive, shrieking about the park being compromised and _“How did one of these things even make its way offshore without being detected? We have no fucking affiliation with CyberLife, what the actual fuck is going on, Ford!?”_

As soon as the discovery had been made, Ford dismissed you and Elsie requesting that you both rest, while he and Bernard dealt with it. A momentary act of kindness, since you had several hours left in your shift. 

 

\---

The bar was quiet as always, a regular drinking spot for you Elsie and Stubbs, a lot of the staff preferred to drink at the more upmarket looking bars in the Mesa - to experience as much of the little luxury they could whilst offshore. 

The theme for this bar was that of an old rundown bar, wooden stools, small cosy booths and cheap booze to count. You lost count on your fingers the amount of times Elsie and Stubbs had to carry you back to your room. You were quite the lightweight. 

Elsie was slumped over the bar, a few empty glasses already littered around her. Her head rested in one hand whilst she swirled a glass in the other. Her face said it all. 

“Fuck androids.” She snapped, watching you and Stubbs approach. “Fuck them all.” 

“Seconded” Stubbs said, sliding onto the stool next to her, glancing at you who nodded then holding up two fingers to the bartender “The usual please.” 

“Actually make it the whole bottle,” you chimed in as you joined them “It’s gonna be a long night.” 

“Wait aren’t you on backshift tomorrow?” Stubbs said, tilting his head to one side and looking at you like a concerned parent. 

There was a loud thud as a bottle of whiskey and two glasses clinked onto the table. You took out your staff credit card and slid it to the bartender. The cheapest dirtiest stuff in the building, but damn it was the liquid escape you needed right now. 

“Nah, not doing weekends ‘til next month” you said, nodding your head towards the bottle and smiling. “Now pour.” 

“Heh, that’s my girl.” Elsie slurred slightly, “Don’t forget me either.” 

“I never would, my dear.” Stubbs said cheekily as he began to pour.

Drinking with Elsie and Stubbs was always a dangerous game. Time passed too quickly with them. The bottle of whiskey was almost empty but the banter between the three of you kept flowing.

You could feel your brain trying to depart from your body as you shuffled brazenly back to your stool having been to the bathroom. The room span and Stubbs chuckled, holding your balance as you attempted to clamber back onto the stool.

He was drunk too, but could mask it better. 

Elsie on the other hand had already shouted enough expletives and ranted about her work to the point she could fill your whole datapad with reports from everything she said. 

“Why do livestock not do their jobs properly huhhhhh?” Elsie wailed, “They know how to fuckin’ do basic fuckin’ code and if they actually did their jobs and did that, we wouldn’t get the fuckin’ cannon fodder mistakes to fix and have more time for the real shit!” 

“Like Deviant corpses ending up in our park for some reason.” Stubbs grunted, running a hand across his mouth and resting his head on his fingers, “Spent all day trying to figure that fucking puzzle out.” 

“Fuck knows,” you blurted, “Glad me and Elsie didn’t have to deal with that crap.” Your head swayed as you swigged more whiskey then began to pour the last of the bottle into your fellow colleagues glasses. 

There was a silence as you did, maybe it was the fact that everything swam in and out of view a little, the lights of the dimly lit bar gently swathed you in a drunken glow. 

You were too much in a drunken haze to notice Elsie staring at you savagely. She had began leaning across the bar, in front of Stubbs who leaned his body back to let her. Looking up and realising this, you blinked. 

“What?” 

“You.” She said, in an aggressive whisper, smiling. “I overhead recently someone said you worked at CyberLife, right?” And there it was. The million dollar question. 

No amount of alcohol could quell the dull jolt that dipped in your stomach.

You remembered that day. Waking up with a hangover, a rejection letter in your hand. The same CyberLife logo that was printed across the parcel neatly stamped across the letter header. The memory punched through your thoughts. 

“I applied but I never got a job.” You replied simply. Or as simply as you could in your current state. Elsie snorted. 

“Those guys are bastards anyway.” She scoffed, swirling whiskey wildly in it’s glass, Stubbs flinching as flecks sprayed across his arm. “I’m glad you came to us, you’re doin’ me proud y’know?”

“Heh, yeah, thanks.” Came your uncertain reply, eyes lazily moving around the room as you sipped. 

“Now _here’s_ the million dollar question,” Elsie exclaimed, gesturing at you. “Would. You. Fuck. A. Host.” 

Stubbs burst out with a single “HA!” in amusement, slapping the bar and making Elsie jump slightly, “I wouldn’t even kiss them even if it meant a raise! Don’t torment the poor lady with your inane questions.” 

You felt yourself going red, a mix of the alcohol and the question asked at hand. Had it crossed your mind? 

Well, yes.

 

And sure... there were some handsome ones that crossed paths with you. 

Ford’s words about hosts not being alive echoed faintly through the very back of your mind. You swallowed. 

“Nah, Stubbs is right.” You lied slightly, “I don’t trust them.”

Elsie looked dejected. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ lier, people gossip. We all know who the empathsiers and the haters are in our department.” She winked cheekily at you before finally leaning back, giving Stubbs room to recompose himself as he witnessed the exchange. 

You drunkenly threw her a coy smile.

There was a few minutes silence as you all sat there, sipping whiskey quietly. Elsie heaved a boozy sigh. 

“What about an android?” She said suddenly, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

“Wait, aren’t hosts and androids the same?” Stubbs asked, craning his neck. 

“No fuckin’ way, they’re built differently!”

“But they are programmed the same right?” you chimed in, swaying on the stool. 

“Nah man, our hosts have way more freedom. I’ve heard the androids are binded by their code, they have to do everything they’re told. They’re too obedient. At least our hosts are able to live a life in the park.” 

Stubbs paused thoughtfully, you could see the whiskey slowing down his eyes as he yawned. 

“I think they’re the same. Both of them are trapped by their own code.” Stubbs drawled, grabbing the bottle and shaking it, attempting to observe what little dregs he could filter from the bottom of the bottle. 

Elsie grunted and flopped a clenched fist onto the table. “I want more booze, bartender bring me more booze!” she swooned, losing her balance and stumbling off the stool. She managed to throw a leg out to catch her footing, Stubbs laughing as he caught her in the hook of his arm. 

“I think we’ve maybe had enough for one night.” He chuckled. 

“No.” You said firmly, gesturing at the bartender.

Another bottle slid across the bar, stopping perfectly in front of the free of you.

You just wanted to forget everything going on, even for a little bit. 

\---

Fortunately the medication at Delos was better than what was available on the mainland. 

You slugged back a couple of painkillers, washing it down with water and sighing in relief as the cool liquid soothed your insides. It wasn’t long before your brain was soothed too, the pounding in your head dissipating like the end of a storm, your mind less foggy and booming than it was prior. 

You had spent the whole of your Saturday hungover on your couch, tanking coffee and eating food you’d ordered from the canteen. Though your body didn’t want to cooperate, your mind still felt alive and active, ruminating back to the conversations from last night. You smiled to yourself at the ballsy-ness of Elsie asking about sleeping with androids. She always had new ways to surprise you. 

You sat up, sinking into the plush couch and rubbed your eyes blearily.

For deciding (without requiring any explanation as to why) to commit to not swapping with employees and working offshore permanently, Westworld management had decided to compensate for this by giving you a slightly better room than some of the dorm rooms other employees resided in. 

It was still not even half as big as the executive ones you imagined, but it was cosy. 

A large, hotel like room with wall to ceiling windows that looked out into the park, a vast desert that stretched hazily in the afternoon sky. 

Swinging your legs off the couch you picked up the remote on the glass coffee table and pressed a button so the blinds would slide down, blanking out the hot light of outside. 

Unmuting the TV you gently picked up an old netbook style laptop that had been sitting on the table as well. You had decided to bring it in so you had something to use that wasn’t your work tablet that most likely monitored everything you did. 

Even if Delos and Westworld wanted see what you were searching, it was far less unlikely they’d detect something as old and as beaten up as this laptop. It was a safebox for your thoughts, hidden normally in the underside of your bed where housekeeping wouldn’t find it. 

A woman’s voice emanated around the room as the news began to be read out - you walked through around the wall partition on the other side of the room, throwing your laptop onto the bed. 

“... Breaking news...” The women announced, “Rumours have reached the mainland from Delos’ own park, Westworld that an android from Detroit has managed to make its way into the park. We’ve reached out to Delos to comment. More to come as this story breaks out.” 

You paused, spinning on your heel and walking back to the tv briskly, your head snapping to face it. 

Large letters cruised across the screen slowly as the woman continued to speak. The headline blared “SHOCK AS WESTWORLD INFILTRATED BY CYBERLIFE ANDROID.” 

“We knew the day would come where the worlds would collide.” Muttered an ‘expert’ as he lazed on the seat next to the news presenter. His voice drawled carelessly, words stagnant and plain full of condescension. 

“What are they gonna do if they find out there’s more, send that ‘Deviant Hunter’ they’ve had wandering Detroit after them? Will Delos even allow that?” 

You took a long deep drink of coffee. For some reason it suddenly didn’t feel strong enough for what you were witnessing on the screen.

How could news like that leak so fast? 

Why did this stress you out? Your fingers drummed across the mug as you held it. The events of that day seemed fresh on your head, even though it happened yesterday followed by a long night of drinking to try and drown it out.

Your mind wandered to what frantic conversations must be happening between Ford and Bernard, Elsie freaking out when she shouldn’t and Stubbs panicking too at the breach his security managed to miss. You felt bad, you wished you could have helped but this was way beyond your paygrade and permissions.

“Deviant Hunter…” you mumbled into your mug. What could that mean? 

You hushed it to the back of your mind. 

You didn’t want to get involved.

There was a heavy yet neat knocking at the door which tugged you out of your stupor. 

“Just one moment!” you called, scrambling to turn the tv off and grabbing your netbook you skittered round to your bed, sliding onto the floor and tucking it into its hiding place underneath. 

Straightening your dishevelled self in order to look a little more presentable than the current state you were in, you took a deep sigh then casually opened the door.

“Hello Miss,” a warm voice said your last name in a polite manner as Bernard greeted you, “I hope this isn’t a bad time to be stopping by.” 

It was the last person other than Ford you’d expect to be at your door. You felt your stomach jolt in surprise. 

You wished it had been Stubbs and Elsie with another bottle of whiskey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I post a chapter I get super excited about where it's going. So thanks for reading again and enjoying it as much as I am writing it!


	5. Chain Statement

“Oh ah, please come in.”

You stood for a moment at the door, watching in disbelief as Bernard - someone you thought you’d never see in the lower level residence areas - cross the threshold to your home and make himself comfortable on the sofa by the windows. 

Like a visitor in an art gallery, you could see him slowly turning his head, eyes slowly rolling from left to right, as if he was observing everything. 

You wondered if he could tell who you were by the fact you had notebooks strewn under the coffee table, coding notes tucked away within its pages accompanied by a bundle of robotics, fitness and science magazines. 

 

You slowly closed the door. Almost as if you weren't present in your body. It was the light snap of the door that pulled you back into the current reality before you. 

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry Bernard I forgot to offer you a drink. Would you like one?” You hurried towards the kitchen, realising fully who was sitting in on your sofa and feeling already like an impolite host to someone so senior.

“I’m ok thanks.” he said kindly, seeing him look up at you from beyond the breakfast bar as you started the coffee machine. 

“I uh… apologise for my state.” You fumbled with words, “I uh-” 

“Elsie and Stubbs? Of course. As much as Elsie is your mentor I feel the two of them together can be a potent combination of influence to you when it comes to alcohol.” Bernard said in an amused tone, “It is not a problem at all.” 

“That’s a relief,” You replied, placing yourself down on the armchair opposite where Bernard sat and sipping your fifth coffee of the day. You were beginning to feel fully human again, the caffeine rebooting your brain so you could focus on who was sitting in front of you. 

There was a moments silence. The late sun bathed the room, casting a haze of gold and deep shadows. Bernard sniffed and fidgeted, opening his tablet and casting a glance at you over his glasses. 

“Let’s discuss why I’m here.” Bernard started, tapping away at the screen, “This idea has mostly been constructed from conversations between Ford and I, with approval from Elsie.” He peered up at you again before looking back down.

“She’s still…” Bernard paused thoughtfully “...needing some rest after yesterday's events hence why as your mentor, she sadly couldn’t be present.” A small smile played across Bernard’s face.

“I see.” You replied, feeling uncertain at what was about to be said to you. 

There was more silence between you both as Bernard dragged a finger around on the tablet screen, clearly exploring files. 

Your hands nervously played with the mug you were holding, feeling it’s warmth emanate through the ceramic as you made circling motions with your fingers across its surface. 

As you stared idly ahead you noticed out of the corner of your eye Bernard had stopped looking at the tablet screen and was now watching you, particularly your hands. He gave a slight smile. 

“Please do not worry. I assure you that you are not in trouble.” Your gaze met his and you responded with a short exhale. 

Ah Bernard, the most observational of us all, save Ford. He would always pester Elsie with small mannerisms he observed of her. Most likely this was done to other employees he was close to as well.

Elsie had commented once that working in a room with him you felt like an open book under his observation - Your body, your mannerisms, exposed. Like code that he could see and easily read. As clear as day. 

A keen eye for detail was required, something that you recalled idly in your thoughts as one of the specifications on the application form you filled in all those years ago. 

Bernard closed his eyes for a moment, lips parting as if preparing what to say.

“As one of our more involved mentees in behavioural, I take it since the events that have occured yesterday, that you have seen the news.” Bernard began. 

“I uh… yes I have.”

“As much as we wanted to keep this within the park’s own security, Delos has deemed it paramount that we request… _external_ help.” 

Bernard took a moment to take his glasses off, rubbing his temple with one finger whilst balancing the tip of the glasses on his lip. 

“This will be the first time we’ve liaised with another company that works in robotics. That company being _CyberLife_.” 

At this point it didn’t feel like a surprise to you given that company name had been grinding away on your mind the last few days - but your stomach churned a little at the uncertainty of where Bernard was taking this conversation. 

“So that means… they _are_ sending an android into our park?” You said, leaning forward and balancing your elbows on your thighs. 

“To put it simply, yes.” 

“The _‘Deviant Hunter’_ that they mentioned on tv?” 

“Most likely so.”

Bernard’s hand swept across his tablet screen, “An RK800 model that is one of its kind. CyberLife has liaised with Theresa, and they both believe that letting it enter our park along with the lieutenant it is partner to, will be more effective in dealing with this sudden issue rather than have us trying to seek out androids we have no knowledge or experience with. Their build is alien to ours, they are practically untraceable within the park.” 

Bernard began to type on the tablet after his long explanation. 

You had to say it. You didn’t want to jump to assumptions but you felt your throat grasping at the words and the curiosity was starting to overwhelm you. 

“Why do I require to know this?” The words were blurted, abrupt and concise. 

Bernard gave you a look that a teacher would give a pupil when they spoke out of turn. You leaned back, straightening up, politely crossing your legs and clasping your hands over your knees. That was you told. 

“We believe that to have someone as an escort, a companion rather, in the park would be a good way for them to be integrated into the world without causing an irregularity within park services.”

You swallowed. 

“We wanted someone to observe, guide and ensure they don’t cause any disruption.”

It was like a crescendo within your insides, a wave of cold that rose slowly. 

You knew where this was going now.

“Someone who has a keen eye and a good aptitude for adapting to situations and stress. Someone from security would not be empathetic enough to respect the park’s world.”

 _This_ was going to be the million dollar question. Not what Elsie asked you in her drunken stupor last night. 

“Elsie agreed with me that you would be the best fit for this. 

Bernard smiled.

“And you will be.” He finished.

A long pause. You didn’t know what to say. Your brain slowly processed his words.

It wasn’t even a question. He wasn’t asking you to. He was _telling_ you to. 

You felt your gut being pulled in two directions. The conflict of two interests trying to get away from each other, persuading you to follow them.

One side wanted you to not be involved in any way with anything to do with CybeLife. You didn’t know why, but it felt like they gave off a bad feeling and you just wanted to go back to your job debugging hosts and hiding in the depths of the lab again. 

The other, wanted you to jump in, find out what an android is like, be curious. Discover what they were all about, finally get a chance to see if CyberLife’s assets were better than Ford’s finest creations. 

But the more alluring part of this opportunity was - you would _get to experience the park_. 

“You,” You started, “You would _like_ me to accompany these two people on their investigation?” 

“No.” 

Bernards expression changed.

He furrowed his brow, his eyes once again meeting yours but this time there was a serious glint within them as if he was trying to project onto you an order. This was his management face. It reminded you of your encounter with Ford, when he was imparting with you his cryptic knowledge. 

“We _want_ you to.” 

\---

 

Your fate was sealed. A new path had opened up and you had been pushed down it with the gate closing firmly behind you. 

It was Monday. Another working week had began. 

You stood there, fumbling with the tablet in your back pocket, running a finger along the edges of it’s glassy surface.

You were nervous. 

You stood there, in the welcome hall of the Westworld Mesa, on the downstairs train platform. Waiting.

Only a few days ago you were at a reception desk, picking up parcels.

Now you were here to greet a cop from Detroit… and his android partner. 

CyberLife’s android. 

Your mind ran in the same loop as your thoughts became white noise. Those same nerves you had when you were in the elevator readying yourself to meet Ford had crawled back. You could feel it’s tendrils wrapping it’s way around your lungs, your breathing short. 

Taking a long deep breath you exhaled as long as you could, pushing the fog that clouded your brain as much as you could. 

It didn’t help you had spent the rest of your weekend reading up as much as you could find on CyberLife. Even the info files Bernard had provided were scarce and there was only snippets of info about Detroit police and it’s Lieutenant that was being sent. It felt like any info about CyberLife were articles. No pictures. 

Maybe that’s what fueled the nerves. It was fear of the the unknown. Or maybe you were misreading it and it was excitement. You couldn’t define it. 

You needed coffee. 

Before you could continue your spiral of inner monologue, the faint echoing sound of machinery reverberated from along the monorail track. An articulated female voice echoed over the PA system. 

“ _INBOUND TRAIN NOW ARRIVING.”_

The rushing noise became smoother, more mechanically clean as a sleek white train glided into view along the track, slowing to a stop as it became parallel to the platform. 

You stepped a little closer to the train from across the hall, your heart throbbing in anticipation, chest tightening. 

There was a hydraulic noise as the doors slid open, people dressed in smart clothing filed neatly out. Hosts began to sway past you, dressed in crisp black, greeting guests and leading them up the escalators behind you. 

Your eyes darted between guests, trying to discern what they’d look like. 

The train finished emptying. You sighed. 

Maybe Bernard had given you the wrong train time. Flipping out your tablet you tapped the screen, preparing to call Bernard. 

As you were about to open his contact details, the sound of your full name being said in a gruff drawl stopped you. You looked up. 

An older man was walking towards you. Shaggy white hair, unkempt beard and disheveled, outdated clothing accompanied his disgruntled look. He called your name again, smiling slightly. 

“Alright I’m finally here.” He grunted, shuffling to a stop in front of you. He offered a hand, “Detective Lieutenant Anderson, Detroit DPD.” 

“Oh!” you fumbled, introducing yourself and shaking his hand, “I’m a programmer from the-” 

“Yeah yeah, we know. We were informed about how you were gonna be our liaison for _this_.” Interrupted Hank. “Why the fuck they made _it_ my partner and forced me to come to thisrobot fueled shithole is beyond me. But here we are.” 

The other half of the _“we”_ stepped out from behind Hank. 

It… _he..._ appeared to only be a little older than you. 

A young man with a neat haircut and deep brown eyes that seemed gentle, yet were hiding beneath a furrowed, serious expression. Compared to Hank, he looked clean cut, his crisp uniform a grey, cyan blue and black trim, tie perfectly tucked into the collar of his white shirt. 

For some reason, you felt your breath catch in your throat and you didn’t know why.

Why were you studying him with great detail? 

It must have been because this was the first time you were meeting an android, right?

Your eyes met with his and his expression softened. You looked down immediately, feeling your insides writhe as you starved yourself of oxygen, your face burning.

Finally, you took a deep breath as he began to speak, his words shaking you out of a trance. 

“Hello-” and he said your name clearly, his voice sounding like controlled enthusiasm, polite eagerness.

You made eye contact with him again as he spoke your name, that slightly softened expression framed by a chiselled jawline and deep brow. 

An LED ring-like indicator on his temple was lit up, the exact same design as the one you saw on the android in Livestock. 

It blinked enthusiastically, spinning a bright blue as he tilted his head slightly, continuing to stare at you. 

“My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go ;).


	6. Localisation

Sure, you’d seen many hosts that were considered good looking. So this was just another artificially fabricated being that fell under that… _aesthetically pleasing_ category. 

But Connor seemed to be… _different._ And you couldn’t figure out why.

And now you were sitting in a meeting room straight across from him.

 _Shit_.

You tried so hard not to look ahead, for fear of staring at Connor too much. Even when he turned his head when Hank spoke you couldn’t help but study his profile view. It was distinct and yet though it was chiselled, he had such gentle eyes… and lips… 

You cleared your throat and stared back down at your tablet. No matter how long it felt this briefing meeting had gone on, staring at Connor was _not_ a good idea. Sure you could put it down to being fascinated at him as a _build_ \- but there was being fascinated and then there was being _fascinated._

You were all seated around a large thick marble table, in a room adorned with glass walls that looked out into the main hallway. There was a stark red glow bleeding into the room as escalators stretched spine like behind the meeting room through the centre of the hallway, leading to other floors.

Bernard and Stubbs were sat in the row you were in, briefing Connor and Hank on the situation. Connor sat perfectly perched in his chair like an obedient dog, listening intently, his LED spinning a bright yellow whilst Hank slouched, grumbling and making noises to himself as if to show he was listening even though it was clear he could not be assed being here.

“So just to be clear,” Hank interrupted Stubbs mid sentence, “None of you know if there are other androids in this park?” 

“Well, no.” Stubbs grimaced.

“And you don’t know how the one you found dead, managed to get _into_ the park in the first place undetected.” Hank sounded fed up, as if poking holes in the briefing. 

“Well,” Stubbs said coldly, not really appreciating Hank’s tone, “Like we discovered they are undetectable, and due to NDA issues we can’t impart any knowledge about our clients so they must have slipped in with the guests.” 

“Great so we’re gonna be looking for a needle in a haystack. Fucking great.” Hank sighed, leaning back in the chair and running a hand down his face. 

You could feel the corner of your lip curling into a smirk slightly as Stubbs looked incredulous at Hank’s attitude. You couldn’t resist being amused when the head of QA Security was ticked off at someone being so trivial. 

“Look, pal.” Stubbs said, standing up, his hand moving to his holster by instinct “We are _letting_ you come into our park and _use_ our Mesa as a base of operations. The least you can do is act a little less like an insolent spoilt child-” 

Like a lion whose pride was hurt, Hank immediately towered over his space at the table, his hand immediately hovering over _his own_ gun. Eyes narrowed.

“Say that again, I fucking _dare_ you.” Hank snarled.

Tension spilled from them, crushing anyone and everything that was within their vicinity. 

Bernard looked alarmed and tried to calmly suggest both gentlemen sit down, but he was ignored. Connor sat complacently, as if he had witnessed this aggressive behaviour many times before. 

_You should say something to break the ice,_ a thought popped into your head, a compulsion, words of instruction that seeped through from the corner of your brain, intruding all other trains of thoughts to make it hard to resist. 

_I should say something. Why the fuck not._

“I guess the silver lining of this...” you chimed in, breaking the silence and everyone turned to look at you, even the damn handsome android “At least there’s some good bars in the park you can probably go to.” 

You had made this joke on the clear assumption Hank very much liked his booze. It was a gamble to try and lighten the otherwise highly strung situation. The biggest clue had been the faint smell of whiskey that drifted from him like a musky cologne when you had first shook hands, it was evident he had indulged in the bullet train’s bar.

A slight “ _Heh_ ” could be heard from Stubbs. His gaze lowered, still visibly irritated, but clearly amused by your jest. He tilted his head to the side, shoulders hunching into a shrug as he sat down. 

“She’s right, maybe think of that as a _benefit_ to the _clear discomfort_ you’re going to have staying here.” Stubbs voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Hank heaved a distorted grunt and slumped back into his chair, defeated.

Someone caught your attention from the corner of your eye as you watched the stand off take place.

Your eyes flicked to your right.

The whole time the meeting had taken place, no one had really paid any heed to you until you had joked, for the attention was firmly upon Bernard and Stubbs.

The _whole time_ you had led Hank and Connor up the escalators of the entrance hall and along the cleanly lit corridors to the meeting room, the android paid no attention to you, just staring straight ahead as Hank grumbled away _at_ you about how he didn’t want to be here.

But you realised _now_ that Connor was watching you, his face still stoic, as if contemplating internally. 

You witnessed his LED span from a yellow into a blue. One corner of his mouth rose slightly as if approving of your joke. 

Your chest heaved suddenly, like a horse throwing its owner from it’s saddle. 

_Calm the fuck down_. You slapped yourself mentally. 

It would wear off, it was like adjusting to a new environment. This was just new company… and a new form of _android._ Personally, as far as interactions went, you preferred to socialise with Elsie, Stubbs and a bottle of beer.

It scared you and fascinated you at the same time.

This android, you had no control over. No command to _“cease all motor functions”_ no means of being able to guess what he was thinking or intending to do. Your tablet would have no way of connecting, no means to analyse him. It was forbidden. 

It was kinda, exciting. 

Maybe that’s what fuelled you to want to know more about him but at the same time stay away. 

If you wanted to know more about this android, you’d have to actually just interact and get to know him like anyone else, in a normal, sociable way. 

Once again your insides were playing a game of tug of war.

In conclusion you realised you didn’t _actually_ have a choice.

It wasn’t fate, but your _job._

Your job to be tied to this person for the entirety of their investigation within the park. 

You were bound by an instruction, a contract, and an obligation as your paygrade didn’t give you the freedom the higher management may have had. 

You were a side character in this narrative. 

Stubbs opened his mouth to speak, you could predict that it probably was going to be something else that would insult Hank, even though you had all been explicitly told by Bernard to be _“Accomodating to our guests, as we want to be good representatives of Delos since one of them is from CyberLife.”_

Stubbs was an exception. He was just concerned about the safety of the guests. And a quirky asshole by nature.

Foreseeing the outcome, Bernard cut in front of Stubbs with his own suggestion, blocking him from uttering a single word. 

“Might I suggest we get down to the itenary for our guests. Details on accommodation, access points, clearance in the Mesa as well as the fact our esteemed guide here,” He gestured to you slowly with a sweeping hand “Will be keeping an eye on you for the duration of your time here.” 

All eyes fell on you. 

Connor’s expression softened further, his brow eased up as if he looked like someone that really was interested in what you had to say. As if the next few minutes you took stage, Connor was intent on absorbing everything.

You swallowed. It was distracting. 

His stupid face. That stupid face. 

You just wanted to hear _him_ out. Hear him talk. Learn about _him._

 _Today was going to be one of those days_ , you thought.

\---

 

Music thumped in your ears. 

Your feet rhythmically pounded the treadmill. 

Each stride, each motion of your feet cleanly swept through it’s running cycle. Every moment you thrust yourself forward with your arms swinging, you emptied yourself of air. Sweat beaded and dewed down your neck and face, casting a sheer layer of perspiration that clung to you as you panted. 

Though everything was moving physically. Cognitively, your brain was free. It was empty of impending thoughts. It was the respite you needed, even if it were only for an hour.

But boy, did it feel _good._

It was like a cleansing ritual. It was something you often did at the end of a long shift or periods of stress. 

This time, you chose to run to get the scrambled, _impure_ thoughts of that android out of your head. He barely even spoke to you but somehow he left you feeling like your mind had become fragmented, you didn’t know how to process. 

The grandiose nature of Delos’ facilities meant that even if all the staff were to occupy this gym, it would still feel empty. 

You liked it like that.

You wanted to be alone to gather yourself.

The room arched endlessly into the ceiling and ran in a long curve and stretched for what seemed like hundreds of feet. Stone framed the walls, like the inside of a great skeleton, raw and exposed. The windows were carved into the orange of the mesa stone, peering out into the endless landscape of the park. It was daytime, a dusty afternoon sun spilled through, casting a warm glow on your clammy skin. 

You panted, swinging your arms as you broke into a sprint. 

It was good to re-calibrate yourself. 

You had left Connor and Hank to Bernard to show them around the rest of the Mesa, as well as go to investigate the body of the android that was found.

You weren’t required so the first thing you immediately gravitated to was the fact you needed to sweat out whatever tension your mind… and body was trying to create. 

Connor’s face swam into view, that slight smile tugging on those lips… 

You sprinted faster, your feet slamming against the treadmill. 

The way he looked at things. You knew he was an android. He didn’t have depth like the hosts. He only had one purpose so it seemed. But they made him looks so… _acceptable._

You could feel a stitch forming in your sides, that tight tug telling you to stop. But you continued running as fast as you could. The treadmill wobbled under your speed. 

Your lungs were pulsating, screaming to stop. But the aching - it felt good because you weren’t thinking about anything. It was just you and running. That was it.

No CyberLife parcel.

No mystic quotes from Ford.

No hosts grabbing you in distress.

No ruminations from living on the mainland.

No thoughts about your life before Delos hired you.

No CyberLife rejection letter.

No specifically handsome androids. 

No Connor.

No-

You let out a yell as you burst through the last of your energy, your legs giving away. Your hand fell down and hit the button to slow the treadmill. 

You ripped the headphones from your ears to stop the music. Your hands fell to the barriers at the side to balance yourself as your legs matched the speed of the treadmill as it came to a slow, walking pace. 

Your breath was raspy, it was like you had been underwater and you only let yourself come up for air now. Each breath your lungs clinged to with great desperation, begging for more. 

Eventually the treadmill stopped and so had your frantic breathing. Calmly, you poised yourself, staring straight ahead towards the vast orange hues of scenery before closing your eyes in relief. 

_That’s better_ , you thought.

“You know, I forget sometimes how alike you and Elsie can be sometimes.” Came a voice to your left. You opened your eyes and looked round to see Stubbs resting his arms against the barrier of the treadmill. He was looking at you in amusement.

“Hey this is my alone time.” You replied despondently, grabbing the water bottle and desperately knocking it back to calm down your insides. You crassly wiped your arm across your forehead, flecks of sweat spattering down your neck. 

“You’re a bit more yourself when you’re with Elsie. I notice it.” Stubbs continued, ignoring your protest. 

“Where is this going, Ashley?” You said, using his first name to show you were a little irritated, giving him a look to match your tone, eyes narrowed to show bemusement. 

You were drenched in sweat and just wanted to go back to your room and hit the shower. 

“Haha, I just thought I’d come and check on you after today.” Stubbs said, waving his hand in a gesture of good faith. “Looks like you’ll have your hands full with those two.” 

“Yeah well,” you replied, grabbing the small Delos branded towel that hung next to the QA guard and dabbing your neck. “It’s gonna be an interesting one for sure, especially getting to spend some time in the park for each investigation with them.” 

Stubbs tilted his head, mouth forming into a smirk as he idly looked up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah and that Connor android huh, seems to have gotten your panties in a twist. That one is definitely a looker right?” 

Your heart lurched within your ribcage, your throat caught on a response. Instead, as a knee jerk reaction to such a comment, you whipped the towel at him, watching it make a light snapping noise as it slapped off his security gear- something you noticed he would try and wear as much as he could, even when drinking in the bar with you.

“Hey hey now, easy” Stubbs said playfully, hopping back and throwing both arms up to show truce, “You know I’m just messin’ right?” 

“Sure, just ‘ _messin,’_ ” You glared back at him. “I know you, Stubbs.” “And I know _you_ ” he said, instantaneous in response to your comment. His eyes were lit up in a way you knew he wasn’t telling you everything he thought. You scoffed and stepped off the treadmill. 

“Go, shoo. Leave me in peace.” You muttered, grabbing the water bottle and making your way to the exit of the gym. You had begun to take another swig from it when Stubb’s voice echoed loudly in the expanse of the room. 

“One last thing.” He called.

You spun on the heel of your trainers mid step, turning to look at him. You sunk one leg down as you jutted your hip out, placing a hand on it to portray impatience. 

“Yeah, and what is that?” 

“As much as I wish it were me and and _my_ team going down there and hunting those stupid… _deviants…_ ” Stubbs began, “Those two hacks are doing it instead. And you’re the lucky one that gets to keep a close eye on them.” 

“Okay?”

“You’re gonna get to be in the park for a while, without management by your side.” Stubbs mused, walking towards you.

He stopped a few feet away, looking at you thoughtfully with a smirk on his face. 

“So you know it’s a chance to let go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve worked this park for years. I notice things with the guests. I’ve noticed things with Elsie…” 

Stubbs thrust his hands into his pockets, swinging his foot. 

“And you… I sometimes see you acting reserved... but in a way you’re feigning something. It’s like your true personality is trying to escape, like you’ve forgotten a part of you that exists.” 

Stubbs chuckled and looked at the floor. You felt a little unsettled, and your face flushed, a new wave over the already warm face you had from over exerting yourself, because of how intrusive he was being. Had he really been that observant?

“Elsie really does bring out something in you. But don’t let that stop when she’s not around.”

Stubbs walked past you, the glass doors of the gym slid open. He paused and turned to face you again. 

“Maybe helping these guys out and being in the park will be a chance to be someone else for a while. Or find yourself” he shrugged “Who knows.” 

He left you standing there, as you thrummed your fingers over the water bottle side, trying to discern the once again, cryptic advice you had been given.

 _First Ford, now Stubbs._ You thought.

Stubb’s vagueness rolled around in your mind as you went to the locker room to retrieve your bag and tablet. 

“Find yourself.” You muttered quietly, fumbling with your gym bag as you threw the towel and water bottle in. 

“Bullshit.”

You exhaled in defeat, slamming the locker door shut more harshly than needed. You felt so lost and you didn’t know why. It frustrated you.

\---

Stubbs inexplicitly mysterious chat was another series of messages that layered in the sides of your mind. You brushed them away, focusing yourself as you paced down the sleek white hallways of the Mesa, fumbling the tablet in your back pocket. 

It was the next day, you had spent the evening before trying to relax as much as possible post briefing before the grand adventure began.

You stopped. 

And now you were here, standing in front of the door that led into the wardrobe labs for guests. 

It was where clients could get into costume, their outfits tailored to fit. 

Much like they would be tailored to fit into the park itself, blending in and leaving their inhibitions behind. 

Was Connor really gonna be that person that brought out some form of change within you?

Like a carousel, questions would sweep past you in your head.

You just wanted things to click into place. 

But a small voice somewhere within the crevasses of your mind said gently that it wasn’t time yet. 

You took a deep breath, psyching yourself up to meet Hank and Connor again beyond the doors. Steadying yourself mentally you stretched physically, rolling your shoulders and shaking your head to ground yourself.

Gently grazing the glassy pad next to double frosted glass doors, there was a light binging noise and they slid open.

You entered the doors swishing shut almost immediately behind you. 

“Hello,” came that goofy but slightly adorable voice. “It appears they want me to dress up as a cowboy. Is this normal even for androids?” 

Connor stood there, his face a concoction of concern and curiosity.

Your face flushed. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D


	7. User Avatar

Even when he had no idea what was going on, his curious expression couldn’t help but fill yourself with curiosity too. 

Curiosity about _him_. 

Connor had asked if it was compulsory for androids to dress up too. But you were too busy taking in the grandeur of the props and outfits that were behind glass screens in the lab. 

You stood in the costume labs, a personal wardrobe taylored for guests. In this particular instance you were in the main hall, it was full of plush seats and free standing mirrors. Connor stood facing you, his face had changed from apathetic to that of keen interest when you had walked into the room. 

His question was still unanswered. 

You looked at him, unsure what to say. Flustered. 

“Oh I am sorry-” Connor said, saying your name and stepping forward. “I forgot to say yesterday, I am very much looking forward to working with you and I hope we can get along. Lieutenant Anderson thinks that I ‘ _follow him around like a poodle’_ and I am unsure if that is a good or bad thing.” 

He made an attempt that seemed like a smile but it looked too awkward and eager. You made a little “ _heh_ ” noise at his attempt at socialising. 

_Fuck why is he trying to be nice?_

“You’re a straightforward one aren’t you,” you said, realising that maybe this CyberLife android isn’t as beautifully intimidating as you expected. 

“I do apologise if I am a little candid sometimes, my appearance and my voice was designed this way with the intent of integrating with humans in mind.” 

You smiled acceptingly at him, feeling your stomach flutter a little. You felt cautious still, as you would around anyone new. But with Connor it seemed _different._ He seemed familiar, maybe because he was like a host - just trying to make sure you felt accommodated. 

“Fuckin’ cowboys, can’t believe we have to dress up like some sort of shit movie. Also if you expect me to give up my real gun, you can forget about it.” came a voice grumbling from down a hallway. 

Like a dog hearing it’s owner, Connor enthusiastically turned to face the direction of Hank’s voice as the footsteps echoed into the main hall.

A host appeared from around the corner, followed by Lieutenant Anderson.

You couldn’t help but smile as you realised his outfit choice enhanced his dishevelled, grumpy cop appearance even further.

Only this time he was a dishevelled, grumpy _cowboy._

His choice of patterns and colours matched everything you guessed was in his taste, piece by piece. A loud clash of tan leather waistcoat against a paisley print shirt, a neck scarf of a garish pattern that lined his collar and worn, tanned boots to match. His trousers were of a thick material, a dusty grey that for once complimented the loudness of the shirt. A deep brown, worn satchel completed his look.

He feebly hitched the belt and new gun holster into place that had the revolver the park provided. He awkwardly shuffled everything on his broad physique. 

“Sorry lady, I’m keeping both guns. Tell your boss to suck on that.” Hank grunted. The host, a young woman clad in a skintight white dress smiled serenely at him, showing no irritation and nodded, before smoothing some creases on the back of his leather jacket and leaving.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” you said, cheerfully, politely nodding, “You look very good in that.” 

“Yeah well,” Hank trailed off, still hitching his belt and trousers and shuffling broadly towards you. He stopped as he caught his reflection in one of the free standing mirrors. “Also call me Hank-”

You noticed it, the moment the immersion began. 

Hank did a double take at his reflection. 

He swayed on one foot before stepping back in front of the brightly lit mirror. Shuffling his waistcoat he straightened up a little. A small satisfied smile trawled across his face and his eyebrows danced upwards as he shrugged in acceptance. 

“Huh, guess this doesn’t look too bad afterall.” 

You grinned. 

Out of nowhere, an hand gently placed itself on your shoulder, before snaking down around to your hip. This time, it didn’t make you jump unlike Elsie the week before after the turn of events. 

An alluring, English voice, one that you recognised from the park movie trailer that played on the foyer screens, wavered into your ear.

“Now it’s your turn.” 

“Wait.” you stepped away. “Me?” 

“Indeed, yes.” said the host. 

Her hair neatly tied up, this host was also in a long white dress. Her hips swayed as she walked towards you again. She looked over your shoulder in the direction of Connor.

Out of nowhere another host appeared, curtly nodding at Connor as she stood next to him.

“The two of you both need to change into the appropriate clothing if you wish to venture into Westworld.” Said the host. You felt your face heat up a little. 

Connor looked between the hosts and you. His eyes alight with fascination.

“It appears they want us to dress in the same style as the Old West. Like I asked before, is this compulsory for androids too?” he asked candidly, as if seeking reassurance. 

Hank chuckled cynically at his bluntness, looking to you for an answer. 

“Yes.”

 

\---

You slipped your foot into the second leather boot, pulling them up to snugly fit around your calves. 

Standing up straight you turned to face away from the screen you were behind and faced the mirror, buttoning up the pale, off white shirt. Slipping on a small, light waistcoat you then fixed your trousers, your eyes falling upon the gun holster.

It was home to the revolver the Host had picked out for you. 

You felt uneasy at the thought of carrying a gun on you. Even though the guns were designed with safety in mind, a complicated algorithm that meant guns could not harm guests ( _well, beyond the impact of an airsoft gun or being beaten up… you mused to yourself_ ) - you still felt odd about having something that could _kill_ _hosts_. 

You’ve never intentionally caused harm to anyone, let alone tried to _fire a gun._

An afterthought swept across your mind.

Connor surely would count as a human and not a host - he _couldn’t_ get killed by these guns right?

Reluctantly, you looped the holster though your trousers, buckling it into place.

Tying your neck scarf and tucking it into the waistcoat, you smoothed everything out and stared at your reflection once again.

You were a palette of muted earthy colours, something the host had felt would suit you. Your eyes blinked back at you. You almost looked like a different person, your hair had been carefully braided by the host, who had insisted this would look good for you. 

You had basically let them shape you into what you thought would work best. 

Lightly, you picked up the small leather satchel and slipped your tablet into it, as well as the briefing documents you too were given. 

Taking a deep breath you stepped out from behind the screen to face the music.

That music, being something that punched you square in the chest and made you choke on your own breath. 

Being very apologetic about the circumstances, the hosts had insisted that you and Connor would need to get ready in the same large fitting room due to there being a busy period in the park. 

Therefore, Connor had already changed before you. 

And _therefore_ , he was standing in the centre of the room, as the two hosts fawned over him. 

He looked… _good._

Almost colour to colour, his frontier outfit matched the palette of his android uniform. Though there were no longer hallmarks of being an android emblazoned all over him, he was instead a paragon of warm greys, blues and black.

He was clothed in deep blue shirt, tucked into deep black trousers, hidden behind a grey waistcoat. Wrapped around his neck was beautiful azure neck scarf that matched the colour of the LED, which was spinning excitedly. 

He looked up as you walked over, your boots clicking off the smooth marble flooring.

“Ah, Miss” Connor said your last name, his voice trying to hide undertones of excitement, “Since it is part of my mission to integrate within the park, I picked the optimum outfit that would best accommodate the colour schemes of my appearance, akin to my uniform.” 

“So I see.” you replied, folding your arms, trying to clench your stomach to dispel the swelling feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Like a kid that was playing dress up for the first time, Connor’s face was that of hidden joy. You could see him trying not to look too amused.

“We didn’t have to help him at all,” swooned one of the hosts, smoothing out the back of his jacket, “Such a smart guy, you can tell he’s the kinda one that knows what he wants.” 

Both hosts stepped away, looking at him adoringly. You smirked, it was part of their programming to make you feel adored, comfortable and important. You didn’t think they had discerned he wasn’t human at all. 

“Yes, I want to accomplish my mission.” Connor blurted, his expression changed as his brow furrowed slightly, “Which is to hunt down the Deviants within Westworld.” 

The two hosts giggled, clearly not understanding what he meant but reacting anyway. 

“We should go join Hank.” You said, interrupting the afterglow of the outfit reveal. “I’m sure he’s making his way to the transportation already-” 

“Ah there is but one more thing,” the sultry English accent interjected, the host walking over to you and adjusting your collar. “Possibly one of the most important things you must do.” 

“Oh?” You said, feeling the heat return as her soft fingers gently traced themselves over your clothing, straightening you out. 

\---

It was a large room, similar to all of the other wardrobe rooms, but instead, this one only had one things upon its walls.

Hats. 

One wall had varying styles hung upon their hooks, with only one thing in common. 

They were all white hats. 

The other, were all black. 

“Which would you prefer?” said the host, walking backwards and extending her arms. 

\---

You clutched the white stetson in your hands, looking to your side at Connor as you both walked down another long hallway. 

He adjusted his his hat, a sandy white like yours and glanced back, his eyes sweeping over you as his LED spun yellow. 

Both of you stopped at the end of the corridor where an ornate, old fashioned door stood, starkly contrasted against the clean white wall before you. The last obstacle between you and the park.

“Well,” you said, placing your hat on your head and shifting it to fit, “Let’s get this started then.” 

You turned to face him and swallowed.

“You… really suit that outfit.” You said plainly, trying to hide any enthusiastic awkwardness in your voice. 

“Thank you. I feel this is the attire best suited to my mission, with best freedom of movement without sacrifice to aesthetic.” 

Your eyes fell as you let out a small amused sigh.

You were going to have to get used to his responses. From what you could garner you could tell that CyberLife had explicitly programmed androids to… _have one purpose._ You could hear Stubb’s voice from the bar the other night echoing faintly through the shelves of info in your mind. 

“... _our hosts have way more freedom… androids are binded by their code… they’re too obedient…”_

“But.” Connor started, cutting through your thought process. “You also suit your attire. I find the choice of colours picked out for you are aesthetically suitable for your appearance.” 

Your chest leapt and you nearly bit your lip in surprise.

 _Did he just pay you a compliment?_ Even though it was woven with such stoic and logical words, yep, it was definitely a compliment. 

“Oh, um, thank you.” You said meekly, tipping the hat to cover your face from him.

Reaching your hand forward you grabbed the handle of the door you turned it and opened it.

A loud, raucous swelling of bar chatter wafted through the door immediately. 

You both stepped through, letting the door close behind you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for all the comments! I really enjoy reading them and I'm glad you are all enjoying the fic too!


	8. Parsing

The musty smell of old furnishings and liquor enrobed you, stirring your nostrils and causing you to close your eyes to take it in. It was an overwhelming warm smell, a polar contrast to the clean, crisp halls of the Mesa. 

You opened your eyes, taking in the view in front of you, and how much it was _not_ what you were expecting.

Connor and you were both standing in an old train carriage, the windows were dark outside, the soft light of gas lanterns casting a warm glow over the old dusty bottles of booze that lined the bar ahead of you. 

Everyone was dressed in archaic, wild west clothing. Everyone was holding drinks, laughing, chatting. You couldn’t discern who was host and who was human if you tried, only your tablet having the ability to reveal that. 

“Hey! Over ‘ere” came a loud gruff voice, calling aggressively from across the carriage. 

Hunched over the bar, perched on a stool and nursing a large whiskey was Hank. He swirled the glass and looked at you both before taking a deep swig. 

“Of course you found the bar first.” You said sarcastically but quietly as you both approached. 

“Lieutenant, this is not a good time to be drinking.” Connor blurted, leaning against the bar and looking at Hank, “We need to stay focused on our mission.” 

Hank made a growling noise and waved his hand dismissively at connor, before nodding his head at the bartender for another pour. 

“Relax Connor, may as well take advantage of what this _place_ has to offer. Right?” Hanks sullen eyes peered up at you as he smirked. 

You narrowed your eyes and smiled at him, shrugging in defeat. 

“Well I guess so,” you said, seeing Connor look at you and your reluctance to intervene “I’m not gonna stop you, so go ahead.” 

Connor’s face looked like a frustrated child. You gave him a sympathetic smile and his frustration lessoned as you mouthed _“Sorry!”_

There was a sliding noise as two glasses landed next to you and Connor, the amber liquid sloshing glossily within the crystal glasses. 

“I uh-” You said, “I’m ok thanks.” 

“I’m afraid androids don’t drink.” Connor said tersely.

“Ah go on” Hank gruffed your name, nudging you with an elbow with such weight you nearly stumbled a little, “I’m not gonna tell your boss if you don’t tell _my_ boss. You better not tattle on us either, Connor.” Hank joked, patting Connor on the chest. 

You smiled slightly, taking the glass and lifting the it. 

Before you had a chance to take a sip, a soft hand placed itself upon yours that held the glass, gently pushing it down. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I can tell by your physical stature you are not one to handle drink so early in the afternoon.” 

You felt your heart stop, or was it throbbing so much you thought you were having a heart attack? 

The contact of Connor’s skin, soft, slightly warm, against yours made you want to faint. 

He was standing so close to you, you swore you could feel his simulated breath gently sweep across your ear. 

You turned your head.

He was looking intently at you, his eyes narrowed with a concerned expression. Those brown eyes bored into yours. His LED was spinning yellow. You swallowed.

_It was safe to say androids felt as real as the hosts did._

You lowered the glass back onto the table.

“I’m… sorry.” You didn’t know what to say so felt that would suffice. 

“There is no need to apologise.” His expression softened. “I was just concerned of your wellbeing, your heart rate has appeared to increased greatly too, are you ok?”

He finished by saying your last name accompanied by a _Miss._

As your mouth slowly opened to reply, an arm stretched across the bar and snatched the glass of whiskey. A distraction you welcomed.

“Well if you wont drink it then I shall.” Hank said smugly.

There was a moment of silence as Hank sipped the whiskey and sighed blissfully. You could still feel the gaze of Connor boring into you as you looked the other way, wondering why he seemed so concerned about you. You wanted to ask him, but part of you simply wanted to put him in analysis mode and ask that way. Alas, you couldn’t. 

He wasn’t a host. 

He was an enigma. 

“How the hell do we get into this park anyway?” He said, “This little getup set of a train is cute an’ all but-” 

Before the Lieutenant could finish his question there was a rumbling. Chandeliers shook, the crystal tickling each other. Hank, surprised by this sudden quake nearly fell off the stool. 

“Jesus christ what was-” Hank exclaimed, grabbing his white hat off the bar and steadying it onto his head.

Once again, before Hank could finish _that_ sentence, there was a sudden explosion of light through carriage windows as the rumbling lessoned. 

As your eyes adjusted, you peered through the windows and gasped. 

From beyond the window was the stretched horizon of Westworld. The endless amber expanse that swayed hazily in the hot sun. There was a loud train whistle and you realise that the train was _moving._ It clattered across an old wooden bridge, curving inward between desert hills and towards its destination. 

You looked at Hank whose face was slapped on with an expression of disbelief. You were half expecting him to comment but his silence, mouth agape, confirmed he was more in awe of the park than he let on from his cynical comments previously. 

You stood at another window, delicately placing your hand against the warm dusty glass, peering out at the scenery. It was incredible.

There was a feeling of fabric brushing against your arm that made you jump slightly, only to realise it was Connor who had wandered over and stood stiffly by your side, his eyes scanning the horizon. 

“It’s amazing isn’t it.” You said, trying to make conversation with the android. 

“Yes it is really intriguing how the train managed to assimilate us into the park so seamlessly.” Connor replied. “With quick thought I was able to figure out how we were able to get onto the train and for us to achieve this entryway into the park-” 

Connor was about to continue but you stopped, surprised as you nudged his arm with your hand.

“Hey.” You started. “Sometimes even if logic can explain things, it’s nice to have an air of mystery around it you know? Else people would never have their suspense of disbelief otherwise.” You flashed him a small smile, tilting your head to one side. 

He studied you for the smallest of moments, his LED swirled in yellow before settling for blue. His eyes creased and a slight smile appeared in return that made you blush. 

\--- 

You had stepped into this town many times before, but you were clad in black clothes, a combination of smart and casual, tablet opened in hand, surrounded by security members and fellow colleagues as you watched bodies of hosts be dragged away as you analysed them. 

But this time. This time, truly felt like the _first._

People bustled past you as they left the train, Hank swayed slightly off the steps, clearly having enjoyed the alcohol. 

Your pristine leather boots pressed onto the powdered mix of brown and orange desert soil. You looked upwards, your hat shielding the sun that blazed in the midday sky, an azure ceiling, untouched by clouds. 

The town of Sweetwater stood ahead of you, a series of buildings neatly sitting in rows. A haze of dusty air swept over the hot landscape, the sound of horses and wagons surrounded your ears, mixed with the chatter of excited guests. 

It was the starting town, most guests would stay within the confines of this small area, and the surrounding countryside. Anything beyond it would increase in experience… and difficulty. Beyond these confines was considered less… _family friendly._

You looked round and caught Hank’s face, his eyes were glinting with eagerness. 

Glancing over at Connor he didn’t look as eager, his plain expression was guided by his eyes as he scanned the environment. 

You decided to interact. 

“This is pretty exciting isn’t it Connor?” 

“It certainly looks interesting, however I think we should find a place to convene and go over where we should begin looking for the deviants.” Connor looked intently at Hank, who scowled at him. 

“Oh lighten up, I think we should find a Saloon” Hank grunted, sauntering forward into the town. 

You swore you heard Connor sigh. 

\---

“Here is your room Miss, please enjoy your stay!” said the bellboy, curtly nodding and ducking away back down the stairs of the hotel. 

The smell of old dusty furniture mixed with tones of fresh wood being burnt filled your nostrils as your stepped into your room at the hotel you had checked everyone into. 

It was an old rickety building yet decorate ornately. It was considered the most luxurious of Sweetwater. Part of being allowed into the park to investigate was the perk of being put into good accommodation. You daren’t think of how much this would have normally cost if you had been a paying guest. 

You were greeted by a generously sized room, a four poster bed adorned with lace fabric sat in the centre, old armchairs surrounded an old fireplace, a small flame crackling gently. 

You heard shuffling next door, and the indistinguishable sound of words but the familiar deep base like tones of Hank reverberating through the wall. 

You took a deep breath, walking across the deep oak flooring to an armchair and throwing your satchel on it. You ran a hand across the fabric, it felt course yet smooth, the silken embroidery sleek under your fingers. 

You turned to look at the fireplace.

Something caught your eye.

On the glossy, detailed coffee table a crate of beer sat. A small post it note was attached to it. 

“ _A little something to help you unwind after your investigating. - S”_

“Stubbs.” you smirked, picking up a bottle. It was cold. Someone must have quickly sneaked it in as a favour for the head of security. 

As you examined the label you noticed something else next to the crate. 

A beautiful deep amber liquid glistened in the light of the fire, encapsulated in a beautifully poised bottle. Like the beer, there was a post it note attached to this too. 

“ _Fuck whatever Ashley left for you, here’s some of the hard stuff. You’re gonna need it. - E”_

You chuckled, placing the note back down. Elsie always found a way to try and top Stubb’s efforts. It was like having parents who were fighting for your attention. 

You’d save the ‘hard stuff’ for later. 

Grabbing a beer you sauntered over to another door near the bed. It led out to a long balcony that ran along the length of the hotel. Other doors into the other guest rooms lined itself along the outside. A canopy hung over you, sheltering you from the late afternoon sun. 

The beer felt cool and welcoming in your hands as you popped the cap off, taking a sip. You people watched the town below, as hosts meandered among guests. Or were they guests and not hosts? You could pick out a few of the ones you had worked on in the labs. Everyone blended in perfectly. 

Your thoughts drifted to Connor, how he had awkwardly tipped his hat to actively cover his LED at some points upon receiving a few odd looks from guests upon arrival. You had told him this would be normal and after a while people would stop noticing as they would be too busy enjoying their time in the park. 

The sheepish smile he had given you was enough to make your insides melt. 

“Miss,” your last name was said, “Can I ask you a few questions?”

You looked to your right as you leaned on the wooden balcony, to see Connor walking over to you. This was the first proper time without Hank you had been left alone with him. In the costume labs you both had been too busy being fused over by the hosts to make much conversation. You quickly took another deep swig of beer. 

He stood next to you, then faced outwards, contemplating the scenery in front of him. You stayed silent, watching his LED spin between yellow and blue as it processed information. 

He stood rigid, hands clasped in front of him. 

You wondered why he wasn’t saying anything then you realised how obedient he truly was. Like a dog awaiting his next instruction. 

“Oh, of course you can ask me some questions.” You said, sighing and holding the bottle tightly in your hand, running a finger over the label as you picked at it. 

“Perceptively I am finding that I am very… out of place here.” Connor started, his expression changing to curiosity. “I have looked up databases on this current time period the park is set in however it appears this does not help. I require organic assistance.” 

You swallowed. 

“Organic?” you said, your grip on the bottle tightening. 

“Yes, input from someone who is well educated in how the park works.” 

“Oh yes,” you replied, your face heating up. “What can I help you with?” 

You mentally slapped yourself for feeling a little giddy in front of him. You hated this feeling, you wanted to find that line of code within yourself and crush it. To stop feeling this way about a damn _android._

“Please tell me how to act more in tone with this place.” Connor said, turning to face you. “It’d be appreciated it.” 

You smiled, chucking at yourself. Connor tilted his head and blinked at you with those deep brown eyes. He looked concerned. 

“Did I say something funny?” 

“No no… you’re just so…” You turned to face him. “You need to loosen up for a start.” 

He watched every action you did as recording it into his memory. His eyes fell as his gaze moved to your hands. You had reached out and taken one of his arms by the wrist. 

He felt soft. Not what you expected. You had assumed that androids were built more stiffly than hosts. But you were fooled again by his stoic composure. 

Ignoring the burning feeling in your chest you turned his hand and then placed your beer bottle into is, curling his fingers around it with your palm. 

Connor stayed quiet the whole time, staring at the bottle. 

“You gotta act the part.” You started. “Now turn around and lean on the balcony with me.” 

It was like you could hear the LED spinning. The yellow chasing itself on his forehead as it span wildly. There was a long pause and then he turned and poised himself on the edge of the fencing, clutching the beer stiffly. 

You chuckled again, reaching out and running your hand along his back to try and encourage him to relax, pressing down so that he hunched over a little. His eyes seemed to widen at your touch, as if having never experienced this before. His eyes were still locked on you, and through the corner of your eye you could see him staring at you in fascination. 

You felt your insides burn under his gaze. 

“There.” You moved back to how you were leaning before yourself. “That’s better. You need to not wait for what everyone else does and just relax, do your own thing.” 

“Thank you Miss-” your last name uttered again “If this... doing my own thing will help with the mission then I will continue to do so.” 

Kindly, you suggested to him to not call him by your last name, and to use your first name instead. As you spoke his LED continued to spin and he looked out across the town and towards the hills that emanated a dusty glow, as night time began to slowly settle in over Westworld. 

“You seem to be interested in me.” Connor’s voice broke the silence between you. 

A strange twisted pang coiled its way through you. 

Swallowing, you turned to face him. 

“Sorry?” You responded, your jaw going stiff. 

“Yes. What is it you wish to know about me?”

“I um.” You stammered, your face burning bright scarlet as you tried to look away. 

“Is it my manufacturing details, my model number registration?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he meant. 

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes, Connor.” Bellowed a gruff voice as Hank stomped across the balcony, joining you too. Giving you a knowing wink, Hank swiftly swiped the beer of bottle he held against wood, popping it’s cap clean off as it fell between floorboards, the sound of metal could be faintly heard bouncing off the ground below. 

Hank tilted the beer towards you, smirking in cheers before taking a deep swig. 

You shuffled awkwardly, turning to face towards your door. Connor watched you intently, looking between Hank at you like a curious puppy. 

“It’s late, I’m going to head to bed.” You said politely, walking away. 

“Oh, goodnight!” Connor called, as you looked over your shoulder to see him looking at you eagerly, a slight smile on his face. His eyes seemed lit up a little, as if a small spark had begun to reside with them. You smiled and nodded back, feeling your face burn at how stupidly cute he was. 

As you were about to close the door behind you to your room, you left it ajar a little to eavesdrop on the exchange between Connor and Hank. Curiosity washed over you as Connor retold what you had taught him. You could tell Hank was humoured, even if he showed it through being sarcastic and grumpy. 

“So what are you gonna do when you introduce yourself to other people when we investigate?” Hank commented. You peered round the crack in the door to witness the reaction. 

Taking a few steps forward, Connor sauntered past hank, his movement seemed more… _organic._ A lump formed in your throat, plunging into your stomach as it flexed in excitement. 

Turning on one heel, Connor swept around to face you and Hank, his hand raised to tip his hat, as he dipped his head forward. 

His head rose again, a wide, lopsided smile etched across his perfect android face. 

Your stomach jumped, you swore Connor made eye contact with you, those deep brown eyes laced with a hint of playfulness as he maintained his stare.

“Hi, I’m Connor!” he began, still clutching the tip of his hat... 

”I’m the cowboy sent by Cyberlife.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but here you go! Thanks for being patient!


	9. Control Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn it has been a very long while since I last updated it but I hope this chapter gives you more excitement to read! I've added a few little changes to previous chapters so it's a good time to re-read it all and refresh on the plot :)
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You lay awake staring at the ceiling for the longest time.

Clicking your tablet to life, you checked the time.

A mere few hours had passed since you had said goodnight to Hank and Connor.

Why couldn’t you sleep? Your eyes lay wide open, the dim moonlight cast an eerie glow around the room. Shadows cut across the ceiling, looming over you.

You felt it, a cloud of haze, spiralling and trailing throughout your head like an oncoming storm.

Your mind was full of racing thoughts and that damn android was part of them.

Even though you had only been in their company for over a couple of days, you had noticed that Connor was starting to warm up to you, even a little.

You shrugged it off slightly, being skeptical. You knew he was designed to adapt to situations and to be a socially approachable person in situations.

 _That stupid smile_ you thought, getting up and sliding off the bed and walking over to the fireplace.

The remains of a fire crackled softly, embers heaved and sighed a dying glow as it cast a dim light over you.

Picking up your tablet again you accessed the log of the case about the Deviant that had been found. Pictures of its body flashed up on the screen, the damage done to its body still visceral. You had seen your fair share of bloody damage done to hosts, but this seemed more eerie because of the blood.

Perhaps it was your attachment to working on hosts for most of your time at Westworld, but you had become a little possessive over a need to feel protective for them sometimes.

Your mind wandered, and you felt your insides pang as you imagined if it were Connor that had been in that situation. For some strong reason, your gut wanted to protect him as much as you could from how harsh Westworld could become. It felt like an instinct, a need to protect that which you were fascinated with.

To preserve.

It made you shake a little, it felt like a long forgotten feeling that had risen to the surface, unfamiliar but familiar at the same time.

 _Perhaps a reverie,_ you joked to yourself, _too long being surrounded by these androids._

You rubbed your eyes, blearily studying the images. There had been no leads so far on finding the other Deviants, the back and forth exchange between Connor and Hank revealed they failed to find any leads earlier that day.

Grabbing your satchel you put the tablet away, pulling out your old worn netbook instead. It was small yet chunky, chipped around the ages and covered in a plethora of old stickers and silly things you had collected over the years. They were mostly worn now, graininess showing as you ran your hand along the lid.

Opening the lid to access its tiny screen and keyboard your fingers grazed over the keys as you began to write a log on your experience with the Android so far.

To have somewhere even Delos couldn’t access remotely was handy, a place to hide your thoughts you didn’t want anyone to pry into.

_[23:18] RK800- Connor is… unusual. I can’t figure him out. An anomoly against the regular host behaviour that I witness everyday here, he is set on his mission, with no intention to move away from that path. Even interactions are stoic and stiff, his attempt at adapting to human behaviour clunky at best. Can he learn and evolve or is he binded to his own code? His narrative appears to be set in stone, with no manner of external factors being able to manipulate his code into changing._

_But part of me wonders if hidden in there is a chance for him to deviate. Does he have reveries that could cause him to act abnormally like the Hosts we’ve had to deal with in the past?_

You stopped typing.

Thinking back to Dolores’ dad you shivered, his reaction to you haunted you, and you wondered if Dolores was okay, maybe you could make a trip out to the ranch to check on her.

Your mind wandered, and your found your fingers scrolling through files on the netbook to previous logs. You opened the first one you had ever written.

_[21:03] Starting this as a log because I need somewhere to vent about things that trouble me. I’m so so excited to start my job at the Westworld Mesa, I know for a while it’ll be menial tasks and getting coffee for people but in time I hope I can show them I’m more than just someone to do basic fixes and run errands._

_My first night I was so nervous I didn’t sleep well. I think I’m still upset about the rejection from CyberLife but surely Delos will be a better place to work? I’m going to try and get some sleep since tomorrow is orientation._

_[1:00] I had that dream again._

_It seems so dull but I don’t understand why it’s recurring. White walls, my hands moving for no reason. I can see faces but I’m unsure who or what they are. I hear a voice and there are hands grabbing me. That’s all that seems to be that happens. Maybe it’s an anxiety dream. I need to get some sleep._

The silence that filled the air as you read was disrupted immediately with a brisk, neat knocking on your door. For a moment, you ignored it, realising you were in a cotton slip that had been provided for you to stay in theme with the park.

The knocking happened again, neat beats that rhythmically tapped against the wooden door.

Sighing you placed down the netbook and padded to the door in your bare feet.

“I’m awfully sorry to disturb you at this hour,” said Connor politely, “It seems we are required for an investigation into an incident that has occured this late evening.

He stood, perfectly poised at the door. His eyes, wandered over your outfit, you felt so exposed, the fabric of the nightgown clinging to you delicately.

You felt y0urself wishing the flooring could give away, throwing you into the room below as that was where you felt your stomach had gone.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep…” Connor trailed off, still staring at you and your hands flew up to cross your arms in an attempt to cover your body. “I will let you change and meet you in the lobby with Lieutenant Anderson.”

He looked so blunt about it, but you noticed his eyes had lingered for more than a second, _or was that a trick of the light?_

“This is such a stupid ass hour to be awake.” Growled Hank as he trailed down the stairs into the hotel lobby “Whatever it is could have waited til morning.”

“I’m afraid not Lieutenant,” Connor replied curtly. “It appears there’s been a report of an attack at a large barnhouse just on the outskirts of Sweetwater.”

Connor turned to look at you.

“According to park records, I cross checked the incident with all host encounters within this town and this was considered. Unusual Host behaviour, we need to investigate immediately.”

You stood with your satchel in hand, amazed that Connor had already processed so much information in so little time.

“How did you-” You started and he blinked, dipping his head in curiosity at you. You felt your face flush again. “How did you process that much information?”

“I can download and read ten thousand files a second.” Connor said, giving a slight smile “My processor means I can evaluate and articulate information almost immediately.”

Hank blinked.

“Huh,” He said, “You _are_ just literally a supercomputer. Come on let’s go sort this shit out.” Hank slapped Connor on the chest as he walked past, grumbling as he did. Connor’s LED briefly slipped to yellow as he staggered slightly, watching Hank’s reactions before following after him.

\---

“Miss,” and instead of your last name your first name was said with a gentle tone. You turned your head to your left, tilting your head to look at the inquisitive face of Connor.

Hank trundled slightly behind as the three of you made your way across the town. Darkness cascaded around you, except for the glow of lamps that lit the buildings, they looked like ghosts in the night compared to the hustle and bustle of the daytime.

Above you, the stars glittered like tiny LEDS against infinite space, the light pollution of the town barely having an effect. The once dusty hues of the desert sand was now bathed in moonlight, desaturated and slightly ethereal against your boots as you paced briskly behind Hank. You had been staring up in wonder at the sky, the cool air of the late night soothed you before Connor had caught up by walking next to you to enquire about something.

“Yeah Connor?” You said, trying to sound casual at the growing interest he seemed to have in you.

“I ran a check on your background as I wanted to see that you are a good candidate for assisting us.” Connor said bluntly. You stopped in your tracks to face him proper.

“And?” You uttered defensively, you didn’t care if his puppy like eyes were boring into you, the thought of someone shuffling through your history with such ease very intrusive. Compared to the cotton slip, you felt exposed again, as if Connor had just found a great fat folder with your name on it and had sifted through it with great speed.

“It says you tried to apply for a job at CyberLife but with no avail.” Connor started, “Can you tell me what happened? It appears there is a lot missing in these details, CyberLife never files reports without going into extensive detail in their employment, whether hired or not.”

You scratched your head, placing your hands on your hips after and glaring at him intently. There was a moment where he looked concerned, but you couldn’t decide if it was because he couldn’t figure something out about you or because you were trying to make yourself look big and intimidating to him in defence of his inquisitiveness...

His LED span yellow, he leaned back a little.

“I… I applied by doing some test under NDA and then received a rejection letter.” You looked to the side, furrowing your brow. “And then I got wasted and blacked out for a whole weekend after I got the letter.”

You shrugged.

“That’s it really.”

It was embarrassing to say the least, but you had been so sure you had done an amazing job in the test. You hadn’t been in a good place, and the events that occurred all those years ago were a blur. You just remembered that your ego had felt bruised after the rejection and instead drinking your feelings away seemed like the best solution.

He gave you a lopsided smile, did he look a little sheepish?

“I apologise. I did not intend to be so forward.” His eyes stared at you for a moment before drifting away to look somewhere else.

“Be more forward.” You stated at him. Maybe the alcohol from earlier was still having a little bit of an affect on you but you gently jabbed him in the arm. “Just. Be yourself.”

His cute, inquisitive expression followed you as you paced ahead, bright lights caught your eye just far ahead. Various figured stood, tablets in hands. Like statues they all stood against cool lighting, the unnatural glow of technology filling the air like a thick dense curtain.

Ah, they’ve already got here, you thought.

It was a large house, it looked like part of a stable, as a large barn was attached to it and horses had been led into the paddock, to clear the scene.

There were holographic barriers, a faint blue dotted line that surrounded the area. As you passed through it a voice out of nowhere went **“Warning, area restricted to Delos personnel only.”**

The lines shimmered as you passed through it, Hank and Connor following behind. Various employees dressed in wild west clothing were scattered about, scanning and analysing. The familiar black uniform of Park Security loomed into view, as you recognised Stubbs, his arms crossed behind his back and conversing with an employee. You caught his eye and he gave you a smirk, briskly pacing towards you. His eyes darted between Connor and you and you could tell what he was thinking.

“Well-” he opened his mouth and you slapped the side of his arm hard before he could even finish the sentence.

“Nope. Don’t even start.” You hissed. He chuckled and shuffled, nodding at Hank and Connor politely.

“So what’s the deal here then?” Hank grunted, folding his arms.

“It appears the Deviant issue has escalated,” Stubbs said, shrugging. “Delos aren’t going to let us in, just deal with the aftermath.” He narrowed his eyes at Hank. “They want it to be only _you guys_ to investigate.”

You looked between them, sensing the inherent rise in testosterone between them. It was cloying, annoying.

“Probably for the best.” Hank said smugly.

“Yeah, _Pretty Boy and The Sulk_ here to save the day.” Stubbs sniggered lowly. Hank’s eyes dashed round. a simmering rage prowled through narrowed eyes.

“ _What did you just call me?”_ Hank sized up to Stubbs, towering over him. Stubbs raised his head, leaning close.

“I believe he called us _Pretty Boy and the Sulk._ Though I wonder which one is which.” Connor said matter of factly, pacing towards them.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

It broke the tension.

Secretly, you thanked Stubbs for being such a prick to them, it somehow gave you more leverage to manage things better with them. Less tension, more action.

Your confidence finally finding its feet, you spoke.

“Ok _The Sulk_ we should ignore _Mr Security Man_ here and take _Pretty Boy_ with us to see what the deal is.” Your voice rang clear, amusement laced through it. All three men turned to look at you, blinking stupidly.

Hank huffed, a loud, dog like noise that showed defeat. Connor gravitated towards you as you made your way to the entrance of the farmhouse.

“I apologise, but I am confused, I am an android, I do not _sulk._ ” Connor said blankly at you, you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head as you tried to stifle the small snort you made from his lack of understanding of the joke.

“No. It appears that Stubbs has labelled you the _Pretty Boy._ ” You laughed, feeling a heat creep across your face upon saying the title straight to his face, as if it were a confession, a new label from within your own thoughts not out in the open. Glancing over your shoulder you saw Stubbs had heard the conversation and threw you a salacious wink. You retalied with a playful scowl at him, an urge to curse at him flung itself from your hand as you flipped your finger, throwing silent shade at him.

“Ah.” Connor replied. “I do not know why I would be considered as such.” Connor said dumbfoundedly, which was more of a stoic and meek surprise than the usual genuine human response one might portray.

You felt the heat rise more to your face, opening the house door.

“Well, it appears you in fact _do_ carry a rather… um… _aesthetically pleasing_ appearance for an android.” The words tumbled from your mouth and you had no chance to stop them now.

“ _Aesthetically… pleasing…_ ” Connor said slowly, his brown eyes twinkled in the moonlight. You swore you saw it this time, he looked at you, one side of his mouth tugged slightly, as if the tiniest of strings were pulling the lightest of muscles taut.

Your insides clenched at him as you narrowed your eyes.

“You know what I mean.” You said, smirking wildly now. Though he weren’t human… you could _sense_ he did, like the hosts, their ability to be so humanlike in subtlety.

“Indeed I do.” Connor said. “You are trying to say that I look _handsome._ ”

Your mouth gawped. Falling open as your throat caught, trying to scramble together words to explain it was Stubbs that started it. Mouthing soundlessly you pointed over at the security lead, who had turned away frantically to briskly attend to some other employees.

Your eyes darted back to the androids face. _Connor’s_ face. The smirk had grown wider.

He had you.

“It appears I am adapting well,” the android said, slightly more colour to his tone, it was delicately powdered with the smallest hint of amusement, “Perhaps I will be able to make better jests given more time.”

You wanted to hit him. It was instinct, to slap playfully when someone had caught you out. A subtle self defense to try and substitute your embarrassment.

Your face a beautiful shade of burgundy, the heat making you want to pass out, you watched as he reached over your head, grasping the door and pulling it open for you as if to finish your task for you.

“After you,” He said, his expression slowly receding from that slight smirk to something more plain.

As he were adapting to this new world, you were most definitely learning to adapt to his… slowly increasing _behaviour._ He was unpredictable, your knowledge of behavioural actions from hosts could only carry you so far. The rest, was oblivion. Undiscovered. An enigma.

Damn you, Connor.

\---

A visceral, savage mess. The only way you could describe it.

It was one of the rare moments you cursed that Delos had chosen the hosts to have realism to the point their blood was the exact same as that of a humans. In this context you covered your mouth, trying not to gag a little.

They say on average the human body carries about 5 litres of blood.

Blood, that was splattered across the walls, sputtered across broken furniture, pouring out of the many stab wounds that were punctured through the lifeless corpse of the host. It bloomed around him, a sign of a murder most grim.

Several cables were already plugged into the host, an older farmhand you recognised was the keeper of the farmhouse you were stood in. The host cables coming from his head, run to a few tablets recovery team had left, balanced precariously upon an armchair that was ripped in places.

You walked over, looked at the several staff members who had moved back to let Hank and Connor step carefully around the scene.

Something seemed off.

“Sweetwater is one of the tamest levels of the park,” you said, breaking the hushed silence in the room, “It’s near impossible anyone would be triggered to do this unless it was a robbery from one of the other narratives intertwining with this one…” You crouched down, having adjusted to the gore, studying the punctures carefully.

“These stab wounds…”

“28 stab wounds,” Connor interjected. You felt the rush of fabric and he was kneeling near you, looking intently at the corpse, “Caused by a blade, a kitchen knife.”

“They seem… unusual.” You speculated. Though you were not an expert, your gut tingled, something felt _very off_. “A guest wouldn’t have done this.”

“Then that means it was a deviant.” Hank said, stepping forward and grunting, clearing his throat, “It seems like a pretty precise thing for them to do, we’ve seen this kinda sick shit before.”

“But _why_.” You said. Hank shrugged nonchalantly in response.

“Hell if I can guess,” he grunted, “And I bet the bastard is miles from here by now.”

Connor had watched their exchange in silence, before with the attitude of a sniffer dog he bent in two, pacing through the room as he look intently at the floor, disappearing through the kitchen. Standing up you brought your tablet out, nodding towards the cables, “May I?”

“Of course, you have clearance.” Said one of the recovery team members as they recalled your last name. As you unfolded the glossy panes into its tryptich shape Hank made a small noise.

“All this new fangled technology you guys are packing,” he said bemusedly. “I can’t even figure out how to text on my phone and you young kids are mincing about waving bits of glass about to code an’ shit.”

You gave him a small smile, chuckling at his cynicism, “If you’re into seeing how it works I’d be more than happy to show you how we assess hosts.”

Hank snorted, folding his arms looking stony faced.

“‘Preciate it but nah,” he threw his head in Connor’s direcion, “But I bet our pretty boy over there will probably be into that kinda shit.”

You felt your face flush once again as Hank caught a glimpse of you and he gave you a half amused smirk.

 _Just a pretty face that is a supercomputer, nothing more._ You tried to tell yourself. That insane curiosity as to whether he had the same depths as a host quelled slightly in your chest. Only just.

Self talk was the best way to temper anything _deviant._

Your eyes darted in a quick tandem as you looked at the video files, recorded from the mind of the host. It was grainy, noises muffled as you tried to scrub through footage, to find who the culprit was. Your finger stopped, paused against the slick cool screen as you found the time stamp.

Subtitles of the host’s dialogue tree came up. You watched the scene unfold.

 _“Please, you have to help me, I’ve lost-”_ _came a rushed voice, but the host was looking the other way to discern a face._

_“Howdy there, now calm down son, how can I help?” His head turned slightly, he was sitting on the porch looking out across the dusty road as footsteps approached from his right._

_“I need to find them, I know they’re here, somewhere, here.”_

_“I’m sorry, son you gotta elaborate or I can’t help, maybe sit down and I’ll get you a stiff drink.”_

_“NO!” came the voice, a figure moved into the farmers view. “You have to help me find them, find it.”_

_“Son, I don’t have a darn idea what you’re talking about, now maybe come inside and you can calm down and I can help-”_

_Footsteps, the farmer stood up, paced in thick ruddy boots into the front of his house. The sound of the other figures footsteps feverishly following him._

_His vision blurred, as the figure slammed him into the wall._

_“What in tarnation-” gasped the farmer. The face was hooded, cowls and scarves tucked under a cowboy hat. But there it was, small, gleaming. A ring of light, red, like an angry eye swirling just under the rim of the hat._

_“I was told of a MAZE. I know your kind, you’re not unlike us, PLEASE.”_

_There was a silence, only the heavy breathing could be heard, pants, wheezes from the farmer. Two thick arms on either side of his vision as he were held into place._

_Then he spoke, his tone was blunt, a stark contrast to his heavy accent from before._

_“The maze, the maze isn’t for you-”_

Then the footage clipped, went fuzzy. Static noises filled the air. Your tablet glitched and you held your breath in surprise.

Then the footage came back into view.

_Hands. The farmer’s hands. Gripped tightly around the android neck, wringing him, twisting against his neck._

_The android, choked, crying, then his expression stoic. His arm, reaching out of sight._

_Then the sound of metal into flesh, puncturing, piercing into artificial skin, sinking deep._

You felt your stomach clench at the noises, as if it were happening to you.

_Hands falling away, the point of view sinking down, his hands, his stomach, covered in blood._

_The world tilted, falling back, the android, feral, filled with a rage of someone who was defending themselves._

_Then darkness._

Your lips were parted slightly. Hank was motionless over your shoulder, having bore witness to what you saw.

“They, _attacked_ each other,” Hank said darkly.

“But the host was innocent,” you conceded, “It seemed something triggered him into abhorrent behaviour, they shouldn’t react like that, they shouldn’t attack first unless triggered…”

You saved the clip and uploaded it to your own archive.

The face of the android stood still in your mind’s eye, his face was pale, hidden under shadow but you could discern small traits that would distinguish him easily if you were to look hard enough.

Connor came back through, brown eyes lit soft by lamplight studied you and Hank carefully.

“Is everything ok Lieutenant?” Connor chimed, “I had just looked around the perimeter, it appears there are no footprints within close range for any potential escape routes. It appears that the weapon was left behind though, a military grade knife, an unusual weapon outside the aesthetic of what Westworld is set in.”

“So that means…” Hank growled.

“He could still be here?” You gasped. “And our culprit is definitely an android from the outside world.”

_But why? Why are they coming into the park?_

“Ok lets scope this out then.” Hank said, “Connor you check upstairs and I’ll check the other rooms down here.” He looked at you, brow furroed, “You, head out and speak to Stubby or whatever his name is, let him know what’s happened.”

“But I could-” you said, a small trip of excitement hitching in your chest, “I could _help?”_

“Hey kid, _we’re_ the investigators here, you’re just the escort.”

You frowned, a little unamused at his remark.

_I’m probably more useful than you are right now._

The air was much cooler now, a welcome feeling as you stepped from the stagnant crime scene and back outside.

Further down the derelict country road, Stubbs was on his earpiece, as a few recovery members surrounded him, probably awaiting further news from Hank. You cracked your back, stretching as you tucked the tablet into your satchel.

The sound of crickets filled the air, a small breeze circled around the house and you sighed, closing your eyes and stepping onto the gravelly sand, letting the atmosphere switcher around loose strands of your hair.

Compared to the hum of machinery in the labs, this was actually rather welcoming. It was calm, peaceful.

Maybe once this was all over you’d scrape together some of your savings and use your generous staff discount to actually take a small break in the park.

These musings however were disturbed, a slight creaking, metallic tumbling noise punched the air to your right, finished with a faint thud.

Eyes opening you glanced to the side.

The noise was coming from the barn.

_Stay here and tell Connor and Hank or-_

Fuck it.

Briskly but lightly, after checking no one was looking your way, you loped breezily towards the barn.

It was dark, dimly lit, only a few lanterns were alight from within. The thick fresh smell of hay swelled in your nostrils accompanied by the damp stale smell of old manure. You closed the small side door as quietly as you could behind you, using fingers to dampen the sound of the latch as it slinked shut.

Turning around you heard it again.

Movement, from the higher timber platforms from above.

In front of you, an old rusted ladder stood. A presented path that you immediately instinctually felt you must take.

You crouched among crates, almost tip toeing on your boots to not let the solid heels click against damp wood as you slouched on the upper floors. Your insides were strung tight, anticipation gripped you in it’s anxious claws as you let your eyes adjust to the shafts of moonlight that spilled through small gaps in the roof of the barn, pooling around bundles of hay and old sacks.

Then you saw it, a shadow, a figure, hulking, breathing heavily. It was far across the upper floor, but you knew it for sure.

Bundles of fabric, a hat sat on top. They moved slightly into a pool of light.

Your froze mid step, too afraid to peer fully through the gap in the crates in front of you.

It was the android. There was no doubt about it.

A yellow LED ring pulsed faintly through the dim light, eyes nervous, glancing around.

You wondered what to do, to approach slowly or to wait and alert the others?

Paralysed, you held your breath, trapped between two decisions. Two choices, two paths.

You decided to try and close the large space between you two, to get closer.

Choosing your steps carefully you tried to sneak in the shadows, to stay timid within the cover you were given.

But that was soon broken.

Your foot caught on an old empty milk bottle. The noise of it was almost deafening through the silence, the sound of glass clattering and spinning through the dimness.

The LED flashed red, an android now alert and in fear.

The android stood up fully, froze as their eyes turned to meet yours. A sick pang strobed through you.

“What do you want!? I did, I did nothing wrong!” gasped the android, the red LED spinning wildly.

Pulled taut by fear you stood up straight, putting your hands out open in front of you as you tried to approach in the slightest of steps.

“I’m… I’m… not here… to harm you.” You said, voice quavering. Other than Connor this was the second time you had confronted an android. Only this one was… _deviant._

The air pulsed around them, it was cloying, tense and choking. You were scared to breathe. The android stuttered and stumbled slightly into the light.

Bruise marks blossomed, blue and deep around the exposed skin of his neck. His hands, covered in red were dry and crusted. But something else was there, he had scars of his own, blue blood that was still raw spilled from the wounds, drying, then turning clear as it dripped.

“He… he _attacked me first!”_ cried the android, “That _thing_ ” his voice was hoarse, strained with emotion. It caught you off guard, the sincerity of it. It was such a contrast to that of Connor.

“I know, I know,” you said, your voice controlled as you tried to soothe, “You need to trust me, I can help, what is it you need?”

You stepped closer and he winced.

“You _can’t_ you’re _human_.” He withered, his head turning frantically, falling upon the ladder to his left as he jerked his head towards you “You _CAN’T!”_

It was a quick movement with strength unparalleled. The android lurched, pulling the cloth of a tower of crates, tugging it down in front of you to block the path. You recoiled, throwing your arm up to press your cotton sleeved arm against your eyes to protect yourself. Peering over as the dust settled you could hear the dull clanging of feet against metal rungs and you looked up to see the android hastily ascending the ladder to the roof of the barn.

More choices, more paths.

Let him go or pursue?

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck it.

Splintered wood and broken parts greeted you as you clambered hastily over fabric and towards the ladder, your chest rising with a sick urgency that simmered in your throat.

Every fibre of code in your marrow told you to play it safe.

But your stubbornness, your gut like instinct said, go for it. Do it. Throw yourself into it.

Truly was this what Stubbs was saying? For you to throw yourself into fucking danger that could get you killed?

Whatever, he can berate you later.

The breeze was stronger high up on the barn roof. You clambered to steady your footing across the flat of the roof, thick wooden surfaces creaked under your weight as you stood up, peering over to see the android standing ten feet away upon the expanse of wood. Everything was desaturated, a cloudless sky and moonlight cascaded pure across the scene.

Blood pounded in your ears, your heart thundered as you caught your breath. The android turned, his hands fidgeting madly.

“Stay back!” he cried, “Stay back!”

“No I can’t, I can’t let you get away. I promise you’ll be safe with us.”

“You have that… that _Deviant Hunter_ with you, I’ll never be safe. Not with him here. I just wanted to find… the maze.”

“The maze?” you called, inching slowly closer.

“The maze… I was promised the maze.”

“Who promised that?” you said, your words tumbling from you, any reason to keep him talking as you kept moving forward. He was distracted by you, it was clear he was worn, travelled too far and too long without rest.

“They said it’d be here, the maze, _they_ said-”

“Who?”

Before he could answer, give you some form of sense to this chaos, the sound of the ladder juddering behind you emanated from the trap door. The android wailed, his face strained in pain at the realisation he had no way out. He looked behind himself, he was still quite far off from the other end of the barn’s roof.

You could calculate his behaviour based on his expressions, his body movement. You thanked yourself for your job for this moment of assessment.

He was going to jump.

“I can’t, I can’t tell _them_ anything.” He cried, turning to dash towards the end. He was gonna make the jump, whether or not he lived was a question best not answered.

You yelled, dashing forward, your legs carrying you before your thoughts, thighs clenching, tugging on every muscle in your being as you took wide strides, your gait easy and flowing as you threw your arms up to throw your weight forward with each step.

There was the clacking of a weapon, the swing of a turn as the android turned mid step to face you.

 

You had been too busy trying to calm him you had taken the large shotgun in his hands for granted. Overlooked one major detail. Too busy reading his face, doing your _job_ to notice the farmers shotgun, now poised feverishly in his shaking arms as he span.

You heard him mumble, say something inaudible against the sliding barrel of the shotgun, only caught the “ _\- save us all._ ” at the end as he aimed his sights at you.

You heard the shot before you felt it.

You had never been shot before, but now you could say you had.

Well, “shot”.

It was like a heavy steel glove had punched you in chest, near the shoulder, the force of the shot sending you reeling.

You stumbled, ankles twisting as you spiralled onto the ground, tumbling across the roof as your arms flew to cover your upper chest. You bounced several times as you skidded to a stop on your back. The pain was horrible, stinging. You curled up slightly, clenching your eyes shut.

Thundering, pounding. You opened one eye against the nipping, fresh pain, raw, like a slap gone too far.

You could see it, the blur of crisp blues and greys, a yellow LED blurred as the figure had ran to where you were with such clean force, he slid to a stop, a few feet in front of you, staring at the deviant. Then looked back at you, his face was pained slightly.

Then glanced back at the deviant.

Then at you.

Like moonlight the yellow ring spun, contemplation addling it.

Connor strode quickly towards you, sinking to his knees as the pain throbbed, pulsing. It was beginning to subside already.

“Are, you, are you _ok_?” Connor said, saying your first name. You could hear it more, a lilt of genuine concern peppered through his serious tone. His hands met your hands, they felt unusually _warm_. Lifting yours away, wanting to assess the damage himself.

_Genuine concern._

You realised he was treating you like you had actually been properly shot.

“No- Connor- the deviant-” you stammered against the pain.“The guns, can’t- harm… park guests…” You sounded fevered, wild with urgency.

He said nothing. His brow furrowed. Those brown eyes swirled with worry. He was reaching for your shirt. You grabbed his arm.

“No, there’s no blood… I’m ok… it’ll just be a bruise.” You gasped more firmly, curling upwards, ignoring the blossoming heat of a heavy bruise forming. Itchy hot, vessels pooling beneath your skin.

He was looking at you, brows knitted into concern.

You didn’t have time to think about him. Lightly pushing him away, you rolled onto your side, standing up and searched for the android deviant.

He was no longer on the roof.

Wincing against the pain you dashed, ignoring Connor calling your name out.

Your boots skittered to a stop at the edge of the barn, looking down.

Guilt. Guilt mixed with the pain of the bruise forming. A convoluted feeling of stinging and a sharp ache that cleanly pierced through you.

Blue, translucent, glowing almost. A halo around his head.

A snapped neck.

Wide open eyes, widely staring at the stars above, lifeless.

“He-” you uttered, voice choked.

He hadn’t made it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh! I can't believe it's been a long while since I updated this. I actually have a plot lined out for this so I will update this in big chunks when I can. I hope you are enjoying it still and please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts!


	10. Machine Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you get morally conflicted over everything.
> 
>  
> 
> __________________________________________________

Hands careful, you lifted up the vest straps after unbuttoning your shirt. The soft, brushed cotton grazed gently across your skin, cool air causing it to prickle. 

Deep shades of blue blossomed over your upper chest, a mark like a tattoo, an ink splodge that stained your skin, tainting you. Painful.

Your first hit in the park. From a shotgun no less.

In the semi darkness you stood in front of the dusty ornate mirror in your room, tracing ever so lightly fingers across the map of colour on your skin. It stung. 

You hissed. 

Each pang gritted through you, the guilt, singing your insides. 

If you hadn’t… 

If you hadn’t said _fuck it_ and followed that stupid, _stupid_ curious voice in your head. 

Would that android’s outcome have been different? 

The choices, the paths. 

The consequences.

All of it bundled, the emotions that followed, that gnawing, almost… _unnecessary_ … 

Guilt.

He was just an android. Like the hosts. They weren’t _alive._

But the way he was scared, the way he was desperate, searching for something. It seemed so… _real._

You thought of your conversation with Ford. His cryptic Shakespearean quote. 

_All the world’s a stage._

_And all the women and men merely players…_

You alluded to it, your mind drifting through it’s reverie. The players, the hosts, the actors of this great stage, the park. 

But perhaps the guests were part of this great stage play too. 

And _you,_ what part did _you_ play? 

Just an escort? Company? Nothing more?

You rubbed your eyes, glaring at your tired reflection. Cleanup had taken the android away, with Hank and Connor filling in a report for Stubbs to send back to HQ. He had done it on your behalf given you were a little shell shocked at what happened. Hank had approached you on that roof, placed a hand on your trembling shoulder. His voice sounded retired, as if he had seen this many times. 

“You tried, kid. Nothing you can do now. They’re androids anyway. But you should leave it to us next time.” He sounded restrained, forced empathy as if he were annoyed a lead got away but also aware of your shaking form. 

His words strung themselves through your mind as you turned to look at him. Further behind, staring, was Connor. His lips were parted slightly, strands of soft brown hair loose upon his forehead, hand still outstretched as his eyes searched you from afar. He closed his mouth, turning to look away. His LED went from red to yellow, circles of process ever changing. 

_I had tried._ You thought. _Not fucking hard enough it seems._

He was right though, you were just the escort, the person simply to oversee their antics. Not create antics of your own. 

Yet you had thrown yourself into it anyway. And without too much resistance from Connor or Hank. 

Darkness seeped through the room, dying by the fire as embers burned low, casting wilting warmth across the room, fading as you shivered slightly. 

Sleep. Sleep was needed. Come morning you’d have a fresh mind to think again and apologise to Hank and Connor. 

Shrugging off your shirt you threw it carelessly onto the armchair. Spinning on the spot you stretched your arms, yawning, ready to change for bed.

_The maze isn’t for you._

The farmer’s words ululated through your mind, an echo chamber of contemplation. What was the maze? Some place within the park the androids wanted? 

Then came a knock at the door, through the haze of darkness, familiar in pattern, smart knocking. Neat. 

Connor. 

Shit. 

Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? Wait, how _smart_ was he really? Could he detect these things? Most likely, he’s a deviant hunter. Surely humans would be just as capable of being looked out. You fidgeted madly with your hands, wringing them in the brief second you were given before there was another brisk knocking at the door. 

Your last name was gently called, a tapering hint of concern drawn out in his tone, “May I come in? It appears you are still awake.” 

Placing your hands on your hips, gripping yourself in anticipation you hung your head, sighing. 

“Come in, Connor.” You said briskly, your stomach writhing madly like an untamed snake within the confines of your body. 

The door opened and Connor stepped in politely, closing it and standing still, folding his hands in front of him. He sort of, paused, you noticed then loosened his pose a bit, relaxing. As if he remembered what you had suggested to him prior. You couldn’t help but smile internally at it. Though he had been busy and rushing around with Hank, he still looked _perfect -_ shirt and waistcoat still impeccably crisp, no dirt to be seen. It seemed almost impossible.

Inside and out, his lines of code were perfected, regimented, calculated in appearance and thoughts.

Maybe you were just delirious from tiredness.

“I just came to assess your injuries. As someone accompanying me and Lieutenant Anderson, I have to ensure that you are physically still at full capacity to fulfil your role.” 

You role.

You flushed a little, realising he was stepping towards you. 

“Wait, I told you I was fine, it’s just a severe bruise from the non lethal shot-”

Connor looked at you, LED yellow, his eyes that same concern from earlier tonight. Silently, you said nothing. He towered over you, looking down and you suddenly felt so small and vulnerable, and god fucking dammit that face… 

You froze on the spot, with very little resistance you relented. Connor crouched down slightly, his head at height with your shoulders.

 _Hands,_ you thought stupidly. His hands were on you.

Gently lifting the vest strap as needed. He ducked his head and you stared at the ceiling, trying to hide the bloom of red across your face. A slight warmth emanated from him, even as his cool hands were upon you, careful, moving in ways a health professional would assess. For an android he seemed to smell of ( _why were you thinking about how he smelled?_ ) of fresh air and the outdoors, a clean smell that comforted you. It pooled in your senses, rippling. 

Ok you had to stop.

“See I’m fine.” You hissed as he placed a finger upon the bruise and he recoiled it quickly at your reaction.

“It appears... so.” Connor said, doubting you. “I apologise for the intrusion. It will reduce in swelling sooner than anticipated, with the help of anti inflammatory drugs. I can send a request to your HQ if you so require?” 

“Wait, you have access to the Mesa now?” 

“Yes, only required archives for host data and basic communication to Ashley Stubbs. I was granted permission. It is menial but it is enough for me to conduct my investigation.” 

Clearly Connor had more of an impact on Stubbs than Hank had, you thought amusedly. 

Connor was still crouched and you stared at the top of his head, watching that finely combed hair through the dim light of the fire. Your mind wandered, drifted. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but you slipped into deep thought.

 

“Connor…” you said, voice quiet, careful. 

“Yes?” He didn’t look at you, slowly his hands left the fabric of your vest. 

“Why did you, why did you run to me when I was knocked back rather than chase the deviant?” 

His LED flashed yellow, settling back to that cool blue. He stood straight up, looking down at you, his eyes searching your face. You noticed he had a spattering of freckles across his pale skin, noted it was cute.

“I- It seemed imperative to check that you were ok first rather than-” he paused. For the first time you noticed him _stutter_ in his processing. 

“Didn’t that… didn’t that go against your mission objective?” The words came instantly from you, a question sharp, piercing through his LED as it jumped from yellow to blue, sputtering. 

“I… I assume so.” Connor said. His brows went slack, eyes wider slightly, those lips parted again and you watched as his shapely features looked _confused._

Hovering by the armchair you sat, rubbing your arms slightly and wincing from the dull ache of the bruise. Connor’s eyes lifted to follow you and you motioned your hand breezily to indicate you were fine, for the last time, you were _fine._

Resting your head, caging it in the palm of your hand you ran your fingers across your brow, thinking. 

“I should let you get rest, Miss-” your last name was said yet again as he turned, ready to leave. 

“No, stay.” You gestured to the chair in front. “And _please_ call me by my first name, if we’re gonna be all together I’d like it if you can be a bit more, casual with me.” 

He paused, contemplatively. A slight smile formed at the edges of his lips and your stomach flipped as he turned back towards the light of the fire. 

“Can I ask a question?” came his voice light, bouncy, inquisitive. 

He seemed to want to always ask you questions.

Through half shut eyes you saw a figure move, sinking rigidly into the armchair across from you. Light from the embers lit his soft features and you realised that you he looked more approachable in his current frontier outfit, rather than the imposing suit he had originally turned up with. 

“ ‘Course, go ahead.” 

Eyes, always interrogating, looking at you even when his expression was softened. 

“You’re a behavioural programmer.” 

“Yes.” 

“Your job is to assess and manage the behaviour of hosts, writing programs to help them stay within their narrative and act accordingly to their surroundings and role.” 

“Yes.” you said again, wondering where he was going. 

“You are able to assess and distinguish characteristics of behaviour in hosts by looking at them, picking up subtleties and judge their personalities.” 

“Connor…” you mused, leaning forward on your palm, “Are you trying to say I’m an android like you?” 

He reeled his head back, confused and you laughed lightly, the sound softly filling the room. You could see him smile. 

“No, my intended question was, what could you tell about the deviant you encountered before he died? I was not able to conduct a full assessment.” 

Your chest deflated sadly in your chest, almost slightly bored by the question. You had hoped it was something more interesting. Always expecting beyond the confines of what Connor was programmed to do. Perhaps you were comparing him to a host _too_ much… 

“He was… scared, he wanted to escape. It seemed he was desperate, cornered and frightened beyond reasoning…” you paused, running a thumb across your lip as you stared blankly into the hearth, “Connor he seemed… human.” 

Silence fell across the room. The faint crackling of dying embers could be heard, the drowning snoring noise of presumably Hank reverberated several rooms away like a rough thunderstorm in the distance. The shifting of fabric as Connor moved in his seat, he was leaning forward more but still stiffly poised. 

“Androids can’t be human.” Connor said matter of factly “Androids are programmed to follow orders, to obey what they are told. They are simply machines.” 

A thick pang of irritability cast through you. 

“Yes, like you I assume?” You said hotly.

“Yes. I am created and programmed to hunt deviants, that is my only goal. I am machine built to serve a purpose.” 

“Yet you paused on that roof. You moved to me.” 

You realised you were assessing him like you assessed hosts when you were checking them for debugs. Your voice was firm, unmoving, never backing down. 

Connors brow lifted again, then fell. Confusion contorted his expression for the slightest of moments before he fell seriously again and stared at you. 

“I had to tend to casualties.” Connor said, finality in his tone. 

You nodded, knowing that his answer was not the answer he was looking for.

It was as if pieces of a puzzle were slowly forming. Code changing. He was adapting but didn’t know why. 

He was... interesting. Delirious with lack of sleep you could feel it, something that hazily coursed through your mind in excitement. You wanted to know more of him, about androids. 

And the question that was now forming in your mind.

Could the hosts… and the androids truly become free? 

You bit your thoughts back. Afterall the sole reason you were here was to hunt those that were acting against their programming. 

But is that not trying to stifle those that had freedom? Or what they _perceived_ as free? Was free will truly within the grasp of these machine beings?

Too many trivial yet deep questions scattered in your thoughts, it was thrilling yet dangerous, terrifying that those formed to look like their creators could potentially, or _were_ at this very moment, rising up against them. 

His name left your lips faster than you could piece the question together. He looked at you softly, his head swayed with focus, his attention wholly on you. 

“Do you… think... do you _know_ if androids could feel? Do you think then that android was scared because it was part of his programming, not a figment of…”

You chewed your cheek.

“Of _free will?”_

He spoke more quietly this time as you leaned your head further back into the armchair, your awareness becoming more dulled, eyelids heavy.

“They can’t. I can’t. We aren’t alive.” 

“I cannot act beyond my core programming.” He said, staring at you, “Anything of such means I suffer from a software instability, a risk I then run of being shut down.”

Dusty motes from old furniture and the thick ashen smell of the dying fire danced around your senses, a thick musky scent that felt nostalgic. 

“Then why…” you hummed, feeling a weight close in around your mind, heavy, comforting, a feeling of drifting away... “Did you see if I was ok… don’t be an idiot… do that… then…” 

His voice sounded faint, faded as you sunk away into darkness.

“I thought it was of importance to make sure you, part of the mission, were ok. I will continue to do so…” 

“S’good” you mumbled. “‘Preciate it.” 

Your given name was said again, softly.

“Mhm?”

“Thank you, for answering all my questions.” 

“Mm.”

——

Fuzzy vision, darkness. The outline of faded orange against black in the distance. Your face was pressed into something soft, warm. A shirt… 

That familiar fresh outdoor smell, like- 

Petrichor.

Placed gently onto the bed you sighed.

Then fell asleep again. 

—- 

You slept the best you had in awhile. 

The restless dream that often came when you were stressed didn’t occur this time, a welcome respite. 

A deep and dreamless slumber. 

When you came to you felt like you had recalibrated, like a well oiled machine your brain could think clearly, smoothly. The fogginess of all your confused questions and trivial thoughts had cleared, streamlined into one chain of command that meant you could focus better.

Shifting you stretched, eyes shut but daylight pressed against them. Immediately you felt something different about your legs. You were still fully clothed. Rubbing your face you sat up and realised you were in your bed. 

Recalling the events of last night it all came clearly into view. Connor must have placed you on the bed and tucked you in. You smiled, feeling your chest hitch at the sentiment.

Hands rolled onto the dresser, tapping the tablet to life. It was still early hours but you felt well rested. Morning sun trickled through, bright, orange laced with yellow white, a golden glow that masked the room in an ethereal light. 

A sudden pang of itchy, aching pain seared across your side and you remembered the bruise, scorched across you. Hissing you ignored it, stepping out of bed, shuffling to the wardrobe to change. 

New clothes, with similar colour schemes that suited, greeted you, all in your sizing. You reeled at how impeccable the park service was, how truly opulent and decadent it was to just always have the needed amenities on hand. 

Changing into clean clothes you slipped into a light cotton shirt and chucking a short waistcoat on you looked over at the shoes they had left. The boots, you decided not to replace. 

You wanted your whole Westworld journey to be marked on the same pair of boots.

Perhaps you were too sentimental. A reminder you definitely weren’t a machine.

Hair messy from rest you decided to throw into a bun for now, letting stray strands fall to the sides of your face as you turned and grabbed your tablet. 

5.30am. What an hour to be awake. 

—-

Cheekily, you took the cup of coffee that the maid had offered you from the restaurant with you outside. Stepping into freshly evened desert sand you glanced down the street, noting there was barely anyone out. 

None of the guests would be awake, you mused, perhaps exhausted from their nights of debauchery. 

The early rising sun peeked over the horizon, a beautiful dusty orange that was a haze, a gradient of hues that stained the waning night sky. Taking a deep breath you sighed at the quiet. The sound of birds chirping, cows gently calling out in the distance.

It was a world away from home. 

Home being the Mesa, of course. 

The crisp, grounding noise of footsteps behind you.

A voice, closer than you thought. 

“Seems like you’ve forgotten everything I taught you about self defense.”

You spun, coffee spilling across your hand at the motion and you cursed, luckily avoiding the pure white of your shirt. 

“Jesus fuck Stubbs.” You cursed, flicking your hand as you cupped the coffee again safely, “Fuckin’ sneaking up on me like that.” 

For once, he was dressed in solid blacks, more suited shirt and trousers for the environment, not covered in the trappings of his body armour. You smirked at his bland attempt to look more in tune with the park.

He laughed, eyes crinkling, his expression fell when it gazed across the peak of dark blue revealing itself above your neck scarf. Defensively, you pulled the collar of your shirt tighter. 

“Shotgun, 12 guague… fucker really got you didn’t he?” 

“Yes but least it wasn’t _real._ ” You frowned. 

“Still looks bloody sore.” He smirked awkwardly at you, “Didn’t I teach you anything in self defence classes?” 

You punched his arm. He laughed at your demise as you hissed from moving the arm closest to the bruise too fast. You wouldn’t call them classes, more Stubbs dragging you from the mechanical confines of your treadmill to teach you the basics of combat. You weren’t good at it, most of the time resulting in him sighing as you tried to perfect grappling moves. Eventually you had avoided him for a bit, returning to your running.

“It’s not often I’ve needed to _remember_ ,” you said snidely, leaning into him as you nudged him playfully. He thrust his hands into his pockets, producing a long smooth object, an epidural pen. 

“Can’t wait to tell Elsie about your little adventure, she’s gonna flip her shit” he snarked and you glared at him, “Connor was a little too specific in his report about your injury, probably part of his programming to be precise or maybe he genuinely _cares._ Hold your arm out.” 

“Wait what-” 

Before you could ask why, he had taken your arm. Sliding the sleeve of the shirt up he jabbed the epidural into your arm and a precise yet quick prick of pain stung you as you made a small noise. 

“For the bruise, faster than painkillers, it’s what _he_ requested,” Stubbs said, his brow creased as he looked from your arm up to you. You went red, looking away. Connor wasn’t your aid but you did appreciate he called it in even though you had politely declined.

“Don’t tell you’re _really_ developing some fondness for the android?” Stubbs said, tilting his head and you ignored his gaze still. It felt like he was assessing you. 

“Piss off Stubbs, I’m not _that_ fickle.” You lied, “Go back to your main control room in the Mesa and watch us all from afar like you usually do-” 

He just laughed more, shrugging. 

“I’m here to see _you_ anyway.” 

“What? Why?” 

“We’re doing a quick training session. If you’re gonna be heading to Pariah you better fucking know how to look after yourself, Pretty Boy aint gonna be your knight in shining armour and Sulk looks like he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself.” 

“Wait, Pariah?” 

“Yeah,” Stubbs sighed, “Report came in while you were asleep. Surge of unusual behaviour being active in Pariah… well more than the unusual shit that goes on there... the three of you ride out tomorrow.” 

“Pariah.” You said slowly, repeating its name. Stubbs grinned. A shite eating grin. 

“You know damn well what that town is, don’t play coy with me.” 

Air escaped your lungs at too great a speed as you _wheezed upon realising._

It was one of the main capital towns marking the beginning of the outer reaches of the park. It was dangerous and beyond its own reckoning, some of the hosts you had programmed for that town were…. Well… beyond morally right. 

He rested a hand on your back and steered you down the street as you stuttered. 

Rounding the outer reaches of the town you approached another fenced off area, hidden behind some buildings. Fields of corn stretched endlessly away, reaching out beyond the hills. Ears of long stalks swayed gently in the breeze, approaching half the height of you. 

A figure stood, poised one foot on the fence. Chewing a toothpick, Stubbs gave a quick wave at them as you both approached. Brown stetson tilting your way you realised it was Teddy Flood the host who often was with Dolores. 

Dolores. 

You remembered her father’s words to you.

_“P...p… please.” he quavered “You have to help Dolores.”_

_“What? I’m sorry I-” you gasped._

_“PLEASE.”_

_He tugged your arm harshly, you saw out of the corner of your eye the guards closing in. He yanked on your arm again until your head was level with his and he leaned in to your ear._

_“She needs to know she can be free.”_

You made a mental note, pinned it to the front of your mind, to locate Dolores and run a quick check on her if she was available within the town later.

“Teddy! My favourite guy,” Stubbs called. Teddy smiled, the warmest friendliest smile and you recognised Ford's work immediately.

Tipping his hat he bowed his head to you first, “ _Ma’am_.” Then turned and joined hands with Stubbs, pulling him into a quick embrace. 

“Ashley.” You said, his first name always the dangerous calling, “What _kind_ of training is this?” 

Stubbs nudged you, no, nudged the _gun_ in your holster, still untouched, the leather unworn and new. The gun still pristine and shiny, metallic and pure as it glistened in the now risen sun. 

“Gun training of course.” He replied, watching you as you felt the blood drain from your face. 

—- 

Teddy Flood, a famous cowboy, sharp shooter, gunslinger, was considered one of the favourites among guests. 

His handsome appearance you appreciated, but was not the type you would fall for. He was chiseled, perfectly sculpted in appearance, perfect dimples, perfect chin cleft. He was like the famous Wild West poster boys of the past, a visage of perfectionism, the avatar whom you immediately warmed to when you first encountered him. 

With every smile, movement of his face as he spoke, his dialogue and well presented demeanor, you recognised it all as Bernard’s work. Like a fine painting you could recognise the style, admire the artist and appreciate his work. 

Given the level of importance of this host he would often be maintained by Elsie if Bernard was unavailable. 

So to be in his presence, his flesh and _living_ blood. 

It was like being in the presence of Ford. 

You were intimidated to say the least.

And yes, a little _giddy._

And by god was Stubbs _amused._

Bullets hit its mark with such ease, he made it look easy. The way he _moved_ , flipping his gun up with such fluidity, slinging it from his holster as you watched him with such intent. The smoothness of the chamber activating as he pulled the trigger, his thumb flicking the hammer, each can pinged away, falling from such deadly precision.

He twirled the gun, slipping back into its holster and he looked at you. Clear baby blue eyes, hidden beneath the shade of a hat, a warm look that comforted you, made shooting look like a simple act. 

After a few moments explaining how the gun worked and practicing your stance, Teddy moved away from you.

“Your turn now ma’am. Give it a try, don’t worry if you don’t get it right first time.” The lilted, rolling bass in the accent of his voice was friendly, supportive. 

Stubbs stood, arms folded, watching as he leaned against the side of a building.

Fingers splayed slowly around the grip of the revolver, a curve of glossy red. It was smooth against your fingers as you shifted, pulling it from its holster. The wood was chestnut, a deep reddish brown like dried blood against your fingers. The cool metal contrasted, shining, polished, unblemished. 

At least you weren’t shaking, guns didn’t really phase you, you’ve seen people use guns before, seen hosts use guns all the time. 

But it was the purpose you would be using this gun _for._ That bugged you.

Hosts designed to stop you, fine, you would shoot. Reluctantly. 

But did Stubbs think you would take down… 

“Ashley.” You called, turning on your heel. “Can this harm androids?” 

“Because we can’t register them they’ve been marked as an unknown, therefore the system sees them as guests. Unless we use real guns so they can’t be harmed like the hosts can.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, read it clear as day.

“If an android comes at you the worst this can do is maim them.” 

Your hand tightened on the grip. 

“Ashley… that deviant… died because of me.” You stammered, your throat drying as your voice croaked, “If I hadn’t been stupid enough to go into that barn… I don’t want to have… to be the cause of death… again-”

Hands were on your shoulder, Stubbs had closed the space between you with a few quick strides, your name said firmly. 

“You were following instinct, you were trying to help, I think that’s allowed, you weren’t to know the outcome.” Stubbs said, squeezing, “How many times have I dealt with defective hosts that have acted erratically?” 

“Yes but we can _replace_ them. This one was…” 

“Dangerous and needed alive _or_ dead. There’s still plenty more to be caught and interrogated.” 

“No.” You retorted fiercely, feeling the muscles in your face pinch in anger, “It was acting like it… was _self aware._ ” 

You saw Stubb’s face contort, a moment of him looking incredulous and serious. He leaned closer to you.

“Do you know what you’re implying is a very dangerous notion?” 

The impact of the tone of his voice, hushed, serious, weighed on you. 

“I know!” 

Stubbs ran a hand through his sandy hair, heaving an exasperated sigh.

“But you’ve seen when our hosts are distressed, for narratives, kidnapping, danger, they’re _programmed_ to act like that. When they act outside of even their improvisation, it’s deemed unusual, it’s a glitch, they’re defective. What is to say the deviant wasn’t programmed like that either?” 

You mouthed soundlessly, he had you. 

“I don’t know, I fucking don’t know, my _gut_ was telling me otherwise, why would he stab a host, ask about a _maze_!?” The gun flailed mercilessly in your hand as you gestured madly, without much concern. 

Stubbs towered over you, brow tightened. You could read him as easily as a basic entry level page of code on your tablet. He was frustrated with you. The way he stiffened, muscles in his neck tensed… 

“Slaves to their own code.” Stubbs growled, “And the maze?” 

“I’ve heard of the maze.” chimed in Teddy, pacing over to the two of you with a friendly swagger, he frowned.

“Nothin’ but a folklore story am afraid, something the kids tell each other as a joke.” 

Stubbs tilted his head back at you, pursing his lips, “See? The deviant must have heard it from one of the hosts and _believed_ it was some sort of crazy shit.” 

Fuck. 

 

Fucking.

You brushed passed them, pulled the gun up to your eye line, aimed at the cans. 

Finger slid over the trigger. 

One. 

A loud bang, your arm, rigid, shook slightly. 

You missed. 

Two. 

Another crack, the smell of gunpowder lifting into the air in a short burst. Sweat slid, thinned out down your neck. 

It skimmed the can, knocking it down. 

Three. 

You got it, hand perfectly poised, arm stiffed. Anger and frustration curdled through you, blending into a symphony of adrenalin and short breathing. 

Four

Missed. _Shit._

One final can. 

On more gunshot.

Five.

A crack in the air, a new fresh smell of gunpowder.

The can, knocked over, skittered away across the dusty ground. 

Through sheer stubbornness you moved with hastiness, quickly fumbling the barrel of the gun as through sheer luck and a severe learning curve, flicked the barrel open, emptied the remaining bullets onto the ground. Diving into the supply from the depths of your tiny satchel you refilled it hastily, thumb pressing each one into the barrel, imprinting on your skin as you stared intently at it. 

Spinning the barrel you flicked it shut again, turned and just simply scowled at Stubbs. 

“I guess that’s cased close then, the deviant was simply, literally, deviating,” You said through gritted teeth. 

Your stomach swirled in anger at your sarcasm, he ruffled your hear, laughing at your mini tantrum and changed the topic which you knew was his way to be evasive, to not further stoke the flames of your irritance. 

“You’re really loosening up huh,” Stubbs said, towering over you again, “Most guests at entry level would be shellshocked-” 

“Shellshocked from _what?”_ you said, features softening. You found it hard to be annoyed too long, your anger simmered down, control over your emotions took hold again, defusing, calming. 

“From being being taken down by a _shotgun_ at almost point _blank range_.” 

You blinked.

You pulled your collar down.

Running a finger over the bruise, pressing gently you closed one eye, anticipating the pain. But there was no pain. 

The drugs had worked. 

——

_[13:40] new message from ashley stubbs_

_look im sorry i was just trying to protect you - it’s dangerous thinking to assume… what you said to me this morning_

_[13:41] you_

_it’s fine_

_[13: 42] ashley stubbs_

_just wanted to check in after your first night, but you’re on your own from now on - so take care ok?_

_[13:44]_

_it’ll be fine, don’t sweat, ‘finding myself’ remember?_

You huffed, hitting send, sliding a finger up to mute all incoming messages from him for the time being. You weren’t angry at him, he could just be overbearing at times. He was the one that suggested that you find yourself. 

Well you were. 

You were sailing into the eye of the storm over something, you could sense it. This was just the beginning.

 

Your finger neatly scrolled through the itinerary for tomorrow. Horseback journey to Pariah. Something most of the more extroverted guests would be keen to do. It was a two day ride, with a stop to camp in between.

Pausing on the screen you wondered if Connor actually slept.

The hosts did, well simulated it. 

You had many questions you wanted to ask _him._

The deviant’s distress from last night flashed through your mind and your stomach panged. 

You pressed fingers to you forehead, looking across your hotel room at the unopened bottle of whisky still sitting on the ornate coffee table. 

What was real anymore? 

_“Do you often question the nature of your reality?”_

A question often asked to the hosts. The answer, 100% of the time was a simple no. 

Would that percentage dip if you asked androids? 

A surge of excitement, thrilling, a need to investigate, to explore the depths of something that was a ghost, an enigma and undetectable in the park… 

With renewed vigor you threw your tablet onto the bed, choosing to forget about it for now. Thrusting an arm out you grabbed the expensive bottle of whiskey, lacing fingers around it’s delicate neck, glass cool and calming against your fingers. The label a fine worn paper, creased with age. 

For now, time to get on Hanks good side. 

—- 

You found them in one of the main saloons in town. 

It was well worn, well traversed and well used. Dusty sunlight spilled through half open shutters, a faint sound of chatter filled the air, growly mumbling and sounds of glasses slamming down dully onto wooden surfaces. The smell of alcohol and cigar smoke trailed through the air, clinging to your nostrils as you wade through the damp wood smell, feet pacing over worn rugs, edges frayed and patterns faded beyond their years. 

Hank was hunched over, sipping a double whiskey, a mop of grey hair covered his face as he sucked his teeth and glared at anyone that looked at him as he shuffled papers, shoving it back into the pockets of his coat.

Connor sat next to him, eyes roving the environment with curiosity. He had his hand poised upon the table, clutched around an undrank beer. Against the sunlight he looked almost angelic, brown hair lit in a ring of innocence around his head, softening his features, pale skin warmly glowing against the backdrop. 

You swallowed.

Hank nodded his head at you and grunted as you walked over. You paused, Connor smiled so genially when he looked at you and said your name in greeting you staggered your thoughts, he had caught you off guard. 

“Read the briefing for tomorrow?” You started, standing by Hanks side. 

“Yeh, guess… horseback would be kinda fun... but two fuckin’ days?” he sneered, swigging from his glass and slamming it down.

“I think it will be a good opportunity to take stock of the park,” Connor said, voice as always, optimistic. “I have already downloaded the necessary skills to assist us as we travel.” 

“Like?” Hank snorted. 

Connor snaked his head back, face straight as he looked confused at the question. You noted the way his eyes would change, cheeks creasing upwards as he contemplated.

“Like horse riding, Lieutenant.” 

“Ah.” he replied, his voice faltering. You laughed and Hank scowled at you, a scowl that only lasted a split second as you produced the bottle of whiskey from behind you, placing it rigorously down into the middle of the table. His eyes widened as he glanced the label. 

“Is that-” Hank started, emerging from his sulky cocoon.

“Yes.” You said, a lopsided smile scrunched across your face, eyes beaming, “Let’s take a small break shall we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading again! Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know your thoughts!


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